L          I  B          R          I          S 


IRENE  DWEN  PACE 


The  Ghosts 
of  their 

Anceftors 


"  'Those  ancestry  books  are  a  standard 
joke  with  us.  " 


GKofts  of 


Caroline  gf  Courttandt  Street" 
Pictures  &v  JoKn 


Copyright,   1906,  by 
Fox  Duffield  £s?  Company 

Published,   March,    1 906 


The  Trow  Press,  N.  Y. 


lo  American  Ladies  S-Gentlemea 

Quality 


proicious 
r         O 


5038944 


Co 

Minerva 

and 
Virginia 


Pictures 

"  'Those  ancestry  books  are  a  stand 
ard  joke  with  US  "  Frontispiece 

Facing  page 

"  How  lovely  she  is,  Juma!"  18 

<f  My  Julie  saw  them  kissing  less 
than  an  hour  ago  on  the  ma 
rine  parade "  80 

"  The  lady  of  the  banished  portrait 
was  moving  through  the  door 
way  "  1 10 


HERE    was    a 
clanging, 
brassy   melody 
upon   the    air. 
For     three 
score    years 
since  York  of 
the    Scarlet 
Coats  died, 
and  the  tune 
"God  Save 
the    King" 
floated    for 
the  last  time   out    of  tavern  door 
and  mansion  window,  the  bells  of 
3 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

old    St.    Paul's    had    begun    their 
ringing  like  this : 

"  Loud  and  full  voiced  at  eight 
o'clock  sends  good  cheer  abroad," 
said  the  tottering  sexton.  "Softer 
and  softer,  as  folks  turn  into  bed, 
and  faint  and  sweet  at  midnight, 
when  our  dear  Lord  rises  with  the 
dawn."  Cheery  bells  full  of  hope 
— gentle  chimes,  as  if  the  holy 
mother  were  dreaming  of  her 
babe.  Joyous,  jingling,  jangling 
bells !  Through  the  town  their 
tones  drifted,  over  the  thousands  of 
slate-colored  roofs,  now  insistent  on 
the  Broadway,  now  lessening  a  lit 
tle  in  some  long  winding  alley,  and 
then  finally  dying  away  on  the  bare 
Lispenard  Meadows. 
4 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Vesey  Street — the  gentry  street 
— heard  them  first.  The  bigwigs 
in  the  long  ago,  with  the  help  of 
Gracious  George,  built  the  church, 
and  who  had  a  better  right  than 
their  children  to  its  voices.  Calm 
and  serene  lay  Vesey  Street  with  its 
rows  of  leafing  elms.  Over  the 
dim  confusion  of  architectural 
forms  slipped  the  moonlight  in 
silver  ribbons,  seeming  to  make 
sport  of  the  grave,  smug  faces  of 
the  antiquated  domiciles.  Like  a 
line  of  deserted  dowagers  waiting 
for  some  recalcitrant  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley,  they  stood  scowling  at 
one  another.  No  longer  linkboys 
and  running  footmen  stuck  brave 
lights  into  the  well-painted  ex- 
5 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

tinguishers  at  each  doorstep.  No 
longer  fashion  fluttered  to  their 
gates.  The  gallants  who  had  been 
wont  to  pass  them  with,  "  Lud  ! 
what  a  pretty  house  !  "  were  most 
of  them  asleep  now  on  the  green 
breast  of  mother  England,  forget 
ful  of  that  wide  thoroughfare, 
which  had  never  reckoned  life 
without  them. 

Into  the  parlor  of  Knicker 
bocker  House,  dubbed  Knicker 
bocker  Mansion  some  years  after 
the  bibulous  Sir  William  Howe  had 
laid  down  his  sceptre  as  ruler  of  the 
town,  the  chorus  of  bells  crashed. 

"What  a  dastardly  noise  !  "  cried 
Jonathan  Knickerbocker,  throwing 
his  newspaper  over  his  head.  "  Can 
6 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

this  Easter  time  never  be  kept  with 
out  an  infernal  bell  bombilation  ? 
I  shall  call  a  meeting  of  the  vestry 
— that  idiot  Jenkins  should  be  kept 
at  home  !  " 

The  head  of  the  Knickerbocker 
family  turned  irately  in  his  chair 
and  glared  at  his  daughters.  Three 
timid  pairs  of  blinking  eyes  were 
raised  from  short  sacks  in  answer 
to  his  challenge,  then  lowered 
again  over  the  wool.  The  fourth 
and  fairest  daughter  of  the  house, 
seated  on  the  walnut  sofa  in  the 
bow-window,  gave  no  heed  to  his 
vehemence  but  a  suppressed  sigh. 
With  a  final  snort  the  Gazette  was 
picked  up  again.  The  Easter  mel 
ody  was  waning. 
7 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

The  Knickerbocker  parlor — not 
the  state  parlor,  which  had  long 
been  closed — was  a  dismal  place 


— so  large  that  four  candles  and 
one  Rumford  lamp  made  but  a 
patch  of  brightness  in  the  gloom. 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 


Most  of  the  furniture  was  ponder 
ous  and  ugly,  with  two  or  three 
alien  little  chairs  that  looked  as  if 


they  might  once  have  belonged  to 

some    light-hearted    lover    of   the 

Louis.      On     the     almost     barren 

9 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

chimney-piece  stood  a  pair  of  tall 
nankeen  beakers,  sepulchrally  rem 
iniscent  of  buried  Chinese  years. 
Along  the  walls  hung  a  score  of 
mediocre  portraits,  the  handiwork 
of  the  usurious  limner  John  Wat 
son  and  his  compatriot  Hessilius. 
Spans  of  sunlit  days  had  stolen 
every  tinge  of  carmine  from  their 
immobile  and  woodeny  faces,  leav 
ing  them  the  drab  color  of  time, 
in  keeping  with  the  room. 

Above  the  cornice,  near  the  sofa 
where  Patricia  Knickerbocker  sat, 
hung  an  empty  frame.  The  por 
trait  it  contained  had  been  ban 
ished  to  the  attic  while  her  three 
eldest  sisters  were  still  in  Welling 
ton  pantalets. 

10 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

"The  woman  looks  like  a  Jez 
ebel,"  Jonathan  had  sputtered. 
"Och!  that  leering  smile."  He 
tried  to  blot  from  his  mind  the 
stray  leaves  he  knew  of  her  story, 
and  the  disturbing  thought  that 
she  was  of  his  blood.  "  She  shall 
not  remain  with  the  likenesses  of| 
my  ancestors ! "  he  had  told  his 
sisters,  who  were  over  from  Goby 
House. 

When  this  descendant  of  the 
Knickerbockers  spoke  of  his  pro 
genitors  he  always  held  his  head 
a  trifle  more  erect,  and  puffed  out 
his  pompous  figure,  though,  strange 
to  relate,  like  many  another  worthy 
man  of  a  later  day  having  the  same 
foible,  he  knew  very  little  about 
1 1 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

them.  Of  course  he  could  have 
told  you  that  the  lady  over  the 
east  bookcase,  wearing  a  blue 
tucker  and  holding  a  spray  of 
milk-weed  in  her  hand,  was  his 
Aunt  Jane;  and  that  his  father 
was  a  noted  New  York  judge, 
the  pride  of  three  circuits.  Or  if 
his  digression  were  extended,  there 
was  his  trump  card,  one  of  the 
first  American  Knickerbockers,  la 
belled  "  The  Friend  of  Lord  Corn- 
bury  ! "  These  were  the  firmest 
rocks  in  his  family  history,  to 
which  he  could  climb  in  safety, 
thence  to  look  down  with  scorn 
on  those  unfortunates  beneath  his 
social  eminence.  He  was  a  Knick 
erbocker,  of  Knickerbocker  Man- 
12 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

sion,  Vesey  Street,  and  a  member 
of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in 
York  and  America. 

Patricia,  smiling  little  Patricia, 
rummaging  one  day  among  the 
dust- bins  under  the  eaves,  had 
found  the  banished  portrait.  Ju- 
ma,  the  gray-wooled  negro,  a  com 
paratively  new  member  of  the 
Knickerbocker  household,  who 
had  appointed  himself  her  body- 
servant  ever  since  his  arrival  at  the 
mansion,  was  with  her. 

A  faithful  slave  to  old  Miss 
Johnstone  of  Crown  Street,  Juma 
had  been  forced  by  his  mistress's 
death  into  new  service.  He  was 
a  picture  of  ebonized  urbanity,  a 
good  specimen  of  the  vanished  race 
13 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

of  Gotham  blacks,  gentler  in  man 
ners  and  clearer  in  speech  than 
their  Southern  cousins.  In  his 
youth  he  had  been  sent  to  one 
Jean  Toussaint  of  Elizabethtown 
to  learn  the  art  of 
hair-dressing.  He 
could  impart  much 
knowledge  of  wigs 
to  a  wigless  age,  and 
talked  in  a  grandiloquent  fashion  of 
Spencers,  Albemarles,  and  Lavants. 
Many  a  beau  peruke  and  macaroni 
toupee  his  lithe  fingers  curled  and 
sprinkled  with  sweet  flower-water. 
The  voices  of  the  fine  people  who 
were  his  visitors  made  constant 
music  in  his  memory,  and  his 
tongue  was  ever  ready  with  anec- 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

dotes  of  wizened  beauties  and  un 
crowned  cavaliers. 

Juma  was  faithful  to  the  period 
of  his  greatest  splendor.  Deep  in 
his  heart  he  despised  the  home  to 
which  freedom  and  poverty  had 
led  him  after  the  demise  of  his 
protectress.  "  Gold  braid  on  com 
pany  coat  and  silk  stockings  done 
ravel  out  in  dese  days.  Knicker 
bockers  talk  quality,  but  dey  ain't 
got  quality  mannahs — Missy  Patsy 
is  de  only  one  of  dem  with  tone." 

He  loved  to  listen  to  the  girl 
as  she  tripped  through  the  great 
rooms,  humming  softly  some  air 
from  Lennet's  "  London  Song- 
Book  " — one  of  the  relics  of  his 
"  ole  Miss."  Patricia  always  sang 

15 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

on  the  days  when  her  sisters  were 
visiting  their  aunts  on  the  bluff. 
Juma  loved  her,  and  during  his 
five  years'  residence  in  the  family 
had  many  times  taken  her  youth 
ful  mind  in  train  with  quaint 
eighteenth  -  century  maxims  and 
fetiches. 

"  De  wise  miss  drop  her  fan 
when  she  enters  de  ballroom,"  he 
would  say.  "  Den  she  gets  de  men 
on  der  knees  from  de  start." 

"I  wish  I  were  invited  to  balls," 
Patricia  sighed.  "  The  Kings  and 
Grahams  give  one  or  two  every 
year,  but  father  never  notices 
them." 

"Well,  you  jes'  know  how  to 
behave,"  he  chuckled.  "  Doan'  yo' 
16 


The   Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

forget  de  tricks  your  Uncle  Juma 
taught  yo'." 

When  the  two  had  met  in  the 
attic  that  April  day,  Juma's  spirits 
were  as  ebullient  as  usual. 

"  How  lovely  she  is,  Juma !  See, 
there  is  a  blush  on  each  cheek. 
Her  pink  brocade  makes  me  think 
of  a  rose  dancing  in  the  wind." 

Patricia  stared  into  the  canvas 
face  before  her  and  the  lips  seemed 
to  curve  themselves  into  the  shadow 
of  a  smile.  "  I  know  you  were  the 
fairest  one  of  us,"  she  whispered, 
"  the  fairest  and  the  best." 

"  Dat's  the  real  quality  way  of 
holding  the  head,"  vouchsafed  Ju 
ma.  "I'se  pow'ful  'clined  to  think 
she  looks  like  yo',  missy."  And 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

then  they  had  laughed,  shut  away 
with  maimed  chairs,  tired  spinets, 
and  other  voiceless  things,  glad  to 
have  escaped  from  Knickerbocker 
frowns. 

It  was  a  dismal  household,  that 
of  the  old  mansion — the  master 
absorbed  in  his  passion  for  wealth 
and  worship  of  family ;  the  three 
eldest  daughters,  who  might  once 
have  had  some  individuality  but 
now  were  moulded  in  the  form  of 
their  father.  "Callow  old  maids," 
any  individual  of  the  lower  ranks 
of  York  would  have  dubbed  them. 
They  wore  little  bunches  of  sedate 
curls  over  each  ear,  and  dressed 
in  sombre,  genteel  colors  proper 
to  their  exalted  rank.  On  the 


"  How  lovely  she  is,   Juma  !  " 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

first  day  of  the  week  they  dozed 
through  a  long  sermon ;  on  its  last 
day  they  simpered  politely  at  the 
Whist  Club.  Fears  of  broken 
jelly-moulds  or  of  the  romping 
Patricia's  next  prank  were  the  only 
disturbers  of  the  tranquillity  of  their 
lives.  Jonathan  Knickerbocker  was 
their  one  Almighty  Mirror.  When 
he  labelled  Mrs.  Scruggins,  the 
draper's  niece,  a  person  not  fit  to 
associate  with,  their  stiff  gowns 
obediently  gave  forth  hisses  at  the 
said  lady.  When  he  prated  of  his 
father's  shrewdness,  they  nodded 
discreet  approval ;  and  at  the  mere 
mention  of  the  loyal  friend  of 
Lord  Cornbury,  they  bobbed  like 
grass  before  a  gale. 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Patricia's  impressionable  tem 
perament  was  saved  by  Juma's  ad 
vent  from  the  sirocco  of  dulness 
that  wafted  her  sisters  over  the  lake 
of  years.  His  "ole  Miss,"  a  looker 
on  at  the  "  Court  of  Florizel," 
had  unconsciously  taught  him  to 
imbibe  the  atmosphere  surrounding 
the  Graces.  A  democracy  could 
not  spoil  her  elegance,  for  Chester 
field's  warning  was  ever  before  her 
eyes.  She  who  copied  the  foot 
steps  of  Baccelli,  adored  her  Sterne 
and  Beattie,  and  though  her  eyes 
grew  dim,  never  let  romance  pass 
her  window  unmolested,  had  left 
her  impress  upon  the  mind  of  the 
faithful  servitor.  Life  to  him  was  a 
gay-colored  picture-book,  brighter 
20 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

perhaps  because  he  could  not  read 
the  printed  page.  All  his  maids 
were  cherry-ribboned  and  belaced; 
all  his  roystering  sparks  clinked 
gilded  canakins.  Love  was  ever 
smiling  on  them !  For  wellnigh 
half  a  century  he  had  listened  to 
tales  of  the  gay  god  as  he  bound 
one  romance-loving  woman's  silken 
tresses.  Small  wonder  that  he 
thought  the  urchin  ruled  the 
world  ! 

When  the  bells  rested  their 
brassy  throats  for  the  first  time 
that  night,  and  Jonathan  Knicker 
bocker  could  take  up  his  West 
Indies  accounts  undisturbed,  giving 
his  daughters  freedom  to  doze  in 
21 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

peace,  "  Miss  Patsy  "  stole  on  tip 
toe  from  the  room.  She  wanted  to 
be  alone.  Juma,  ambling  through 
the  dim  hall  to  his  pantry,  caught 
sight  of  her  fluttering  garments, 
but  did  not  speak.  Only  an  hour 
or  two  before,  he  had  placed  in  the 
chamber  where  she  slept  a  bunch 
of  arbutus  which  young  Sheridan, 
the  organist,  had  given  into  his 
keeping.  The  wild,  sweet-scented 
flower  grew  in  but  one  spot  near 
the  town — an  island  in  the  centre 
of  the  Woodbridge  Swamp,  where 
Captain  Kidd  in  a  freak  of  fancy 
had  planted  it  over  the  body  of  a 
comrade,  tradition  said,  and  no  one 
ever  disputed  the  story.  To  reach 
it,  even  the  most  sure-footed  ran 

22 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

the  danger  of  being  caught  in  the 
bog. 

Patricia  wondered  as  she  mount 
ed  the  stairs  how  her  lover  had  been 
able  to  come  with  her  gift  unseen. 
The  watching  negro  smiled  sadly 
and  shook  his  head  when  the  last 
bit  of  her  garment  disappeared 
over  the  staircase  like  a  white 
moth  moving  treeward. 

Oh,  how  terrible  it  was  never 
to  see  him  in  her  father's  house  ! 
Never  to  have  seen  him  alone,  only 
that  one  time,  after  twilight  ser 
vice,  when  she  had  stolen  a  meet 
ing  at  the  Battery,  while  her  family 
were  taking  their  Sabbath-day  ride 
up  the  Bowery  Road! 

The  old  vehicle  held  but  six, 
23 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

and  as  the  aunts  always  rode  home 
with  their  brother,  Patricia  was 
left  to  the  escort  of  Juma,  custodian 
of  the  prayer-books.  By  the  clump 
of  protecting  boxwood  at  the  end 
of  the  Marine  Parade  she  had  come 
upon  him.  The  sea  held  his  eyes 
until  there  was  no  mistaking  the 
footsteps.  Her  approaching  crino 
line  made  soft  little  rustles,  as  if 
entreating  him  to  leave  his  musings. 
Her  body-guard's  shuffles,  too,  were 
unmistakable.  Like  some  young 
potentate  her  lover  turned  about, 
describing  an  elaborate  bow  with 
his  white  castor.  The  very  pict 
ure  of  starched  tranquillity  he 
looked,  but  underneath  the  blue 
hammer-tail  coat  a  heart  was  beat- 
24 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ing  wildly,  as  she,  made  wise  by 
love,  knew  well — for  her  own  was 
its  echo. 

There  was  a  brief  moment  while 
she  watched  the  color  mount  to 
his  sun-bronzed  face,  the  blue  eyes 
glow,  the  strong  form  quiver  ever 
so  slightly.  Then  her  lips  framed 
"  Richard  " — the  key  of  the  uni 
verse.  "Patricia!"  came  the  answer. 

Juma,  from  his  discreet  distance* 
heard  her  compared  to  the  magno 
lia  worn  on  the  lapel  of  the  coat 
she  admired  so  much.  In  her 
white  and  fragrant  young  woman 
hood  she  was  like  it  from  sheer  in 
accessibility.  The  flower  expressed 
her  character  and  position — Patricia 
Knickerbocker,  a  daughter  of  the 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

autocrat  of  York.  When  he  men 
tioned  her  father's  name  the  girl 
shivered.  An  invisible  wall  seemed 
to  rise  between  them.  Then  the 
feeling  died  away.  Her  soul  grew 
wider  awake  each  moment  her 
lover  gazed  at  her. 

As  he  drew  her  closer  to  him 
Juma's  figure  in  the  background 
bent  over  a  flower  in  the  path. 

"  Let  'em  kiss,"  he  mumbled. 
"Ole  Miss  used  to  say  de  female 
dat  never  lub  am  a  sour  pippin, 
and  dere's  enough  ter  start  a  vine 
gar  press  in  dis  family." 

"  You'll  not  permit  them  to  take 
you  away  from  me?  You  will  be 
mine  forever  and  ever?"  said  the 
youth. 

26 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

A  sigh  of  happiness  answered 
him. 

"  I  know  I'm  poor,  Patricia, 
and  my  family  can  never  equal 
yours." 

"Don't! "she whispered.  "What 
does  it  matter,  what  does  anything 
matter — only  that  I'm  here  with 
you!" 

"  See  the  night  creeping  in  off 
there,  dear  heart.  It  holds  noth 
ing  more  wonderful  than  this  mo 
ment." 

"  How  black  the  water  looks," 
she  faltered. 

"  I  will  go  to  your  father  and 
demand  your  hand."  She  was 
trembling. 

"  You  do  not  know  what  a 
27 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Knickerbocker  is — an  awful  crea 
ture  with  a  hundred  gorgon  heads 
constantly  leering  and  preach 
ing  ;  detecting  flaws  in  other  peo 
ple's  families.  One  head  will  tell 
you  that  you  play  the  organ  in 
St.  Paul's,  and  another  may  see 
that  your  coat  is  a  trifle  worn. 
We're  not  the  only  clan  of  them 
in  the  land." 

"  We  must  not  fear  them — not 
to-night,  when  love  is  rilling  the 
world." 

"  Only  one  of  my  grandmothers 
married  for  love,  and  she  was 
thought  to  be  disgraced." 

"You  will  follow  her?"  he 
asked,  a  catch  in  his  voice. 

Juma  was  signalling  for  them  to 
28 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

part,  and  on  his  forehead  she  kissed 
"  I  will !  " 

Now  alone  on  the  dark  stair 
case  she  meditated  on  his  words. 
When  that  malignant  crone,  Gos 
sip,  started  on  her  round,  what 
would  happen? 

Suddenly  the  voice  of  her  father 
adding  up  the  indigo  cargo  fell 
upon  her  ears.  He  would  end  their 
happiness ;  a  man  powerful  enough 
to  kill  the  spirit  of  Easter  in  his 
home  could  do  anything.  Creep 
ing  through  the  narrow  passage  she 
came  to  the  great  north  balcony 
window.  There  she  paused  and 
raised  her  eyes  to  the  dome  of  the 
night.  Long  lines  of  stars  were 
strung  across  the  meadows  of 
29 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

heaven.  The  dials  of  the  world 
seemed  suddenly  stilled.  Below 
the  infinite  peace  a  budding  land 
scape  sloped  gently  into  a  placid 
sea.  Myriads  of  little  lights  in 
humble  cots  blinked  an  answer  to 
the  fires  above.  Leaning  on  the 
broad  window-seat  of  blackened 
Jersey  oak  she  tried  to  descry  his 
dwelling,  but  the  tree-tops  shut  it 
away. 

A  few  hours  before,  he  had  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife,  and  she,  a 
Knickerbocker,  had  thrilled  at  his 
words.  Like  a  tide  the  memory 
of  his  love  swept  back  to  her. 
Then  on  its  surges  came  the  stupor 
of  desolation.  The  gates  of  Knick 
erbocker  pride  were  strong.  A 
30 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

second  David  might  fail  to  force 
them.  All  her  dreams  were  fan 
tasies,  with  no  bearing  upon  reality. 
All  her  hopes  were  sunbeams  van 
quished  by  one  dark  shadow.  To 
her  distorted  imagination  her  family 
seemed  accursed.  Every  face  bore 
some  mark  of  it,  even  the  row  of 
dim  portraits  in  the  room  below. 
But,  ah !  there  was  one,  a  face 
turned  to  the  rafters  of  the  attic, 
whose  bright  eyes  and  red  lips  knew 
love  untinctured  by  the  dross  of  the 
world.  In  the  darkness  it  rose  be 
fore  her  strangely  insistent.  As  in 
a  time-blurred  mirror  she  looked 
and  saw  herself,  and  the  feeling, 
though  uncanny,  gave  her  a  sense 
of  comfort. 

31 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

A  wind  began  to  sigh  in  the 
garden.  Through  the  boxwood 
maze  and  barren  urns  it  swept- 
Smiling  Flora,  sleeping  Endymion, 
and  all  the  fabulous  court  that  had 
stood  there  years  before  the  coming 
of  the  Knickerbockers  grew  more 
humanly  colored  as  the  moon  passed 
behind  a  cloud.  Since  York  had 
become  a  queenly  city  and  the 
wonder  of  the  western  world,  mute 
and  peacefully  passive  they  had 
watched  the  seasons  come  and  go. 
Countless  lovers  must  have  known 
them.  She  saw  back  into  the 
springs,  the  flower  times.  Sedan 
chairs  and  swaying  post-chaises  had 
borne  these  dainty  lovers  all  away. 
Oh,  strange,  sweet  thought!  She, 
32 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

too,  would  have  to  go  —  with 
him. 

Down  by  the  pale  and  shivering 
elms  the  iron  bar  of  the  gate  clicked. 
Dark  figures  were  entering  the 
garden.  The  gods  and  goddesses 
faded  before  her  eyes.  No  one 
visited  them  on  Easter  eve.  Her 
father  did  not  keep  the  season. 

She  steadied  her  knees  on  the 
slippery  seat.  The  spray  of  ar 
butus  she  was  wearing  over  her 
heart  cut  her  hands  as  she  pressed 
closer  to  the  pane. 

"  My  aunts  !  they  know  !  "  she 
whispered  to  herself. 

Terror  of  her  father — of  them 
all — swept  over  her,  chilling  the 
very  recesses  of  her  being.  As  the 
33 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

habiliments  of  her  august  relatives 
became  more  distinct,  she  grew 
calmer.  With  slow  and  measured 
tread  they  walked,  while  to  their 
right  minced  Betty,  a  small  abi- 
gail,  swaying  a  lantern. 

"  It  is  the  march  of  pride  coming 
to  crush  me  !  "  she  cried. 

Then  the  bells  began  to  peal 
again  —  "  Pride  —  pride  "  they 
seemed  to  mock.  "  Love  must 
die  for  pride  ! " 


>ter  7  wo 


35 


N  the  wreck  of  many 
social  thrones — for 
the     town     named 
after    the     Duke 
of    York    passed 
through    numer 
ous    transitions 
the  world  knows 
nothing    of — Pa 
tricia's  aunt,  Miss 
Georgina  Knick 
erbocker,     had 
elected     to    raise 
her    sceptre.      "  I    rule    by  right " 
was  her  dictum.      "  My  family  is 
37 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

old ;  few  families  are  older  or 
more  aristocratic.  The  famous 
Judge  Josiah  Knickerbocker  was 
my  father,  and  my  brother  Jona 
than  owns  Knickerbocker  Man 
sion,  the  finest  dwelling  in  York." 
No  potentate  ever  wore  a  crown 
more  blissfully  than  Miss  Georgina. 
Tall,  beak-nosed,  gruff-voiced  she 
was,  always  with  her  younger  sis 
ter,  Miss  Julie,  in  tow  and  under 
good  control  —  Miss  Julie,  who 
smirked  and  copied  her  when 
family  pride  was  concerned,  though 
she  had  her  own  misgivings  and 
opinions  on  other  matters.  Miss 
Julie  even  had  emotions  and  senti 
mentalities  of  her  own,  which  she 
struggled  to  keep  bottled  up  before 
38 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

her  relatives  and  the  world,  uncov 
ering  them  only  in  secret,  as  she 
did  her  jasmine  scent  and  poma 
tum  pot. 

The  little  woman's  real  name 
was  Jerusalem,  bestowed  upon  her 
at  a  time  when  the  judge  her 
father's  religious  spirit  was  in  its 
blossoming  period.  One  great 
grief  of  her  life  was  that  she 
had  given  way  to  wickedness  and 
changed  this  outlandish  cognomen. 
She  often  brought  the  subject  up 
before  Dr.  Slumnus,  as  he  stopped 
in  for  a  social  game  of  chess.  "  In 
deed,  Miss  Julie,"  he  would  answer 
soothingly,  "the  name  is  so  Chris 
tian  that  it  sounds  heathenish.  No 
well-conducted  female  should  pre- 
39 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

sume  to  bear  the  name  of  the  holy 
city.  Nay,  ma'am,  it  would  have 
come  perilously  near  sacrilege  to 
retain  it !  " 

Thus  assured,  Miss  Julie  would 
give  herself  over  to  the  excitement 
of  endeavoring  to  queen  a  pawn. 
Later,  in  her  chamber,  ready  to 
blow  out  her  candle,  alone  with 
the  crowd  of  memories  waiting  to 
conduct  her  to  the  land  of  dreams, 
she  shuddered.  Her  father's  stern 
eyes  would  glare  at  her  reproach 
fully  ;  sometimes  she  would  try 
to  mock  at  them,  remembering 
the  words  of  Dr.  Slumnus — but 
oftener  a  tear  or  two  trickled  down 
her  faded  cheeks  and  stained  the 
strings  of  her  nightcap. 
40 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Together  these  two  elderly 
Knickerbockers  were  unweary  in 
their  efforts  to  interpret  high  life 
to  their  circle.  Their  family  pride 
was  more  expansive  than  their 
brother  Jonathan's.  He  talked 
chiefly  of  his  Aunt  Jane,  the  milk 
weed  lady,  of  his  renowned  father, 
and  of  that  dim  shade  of  a  Knick 
erbocker  who  was  the  friend  of 
Lord  Cornbury.  Miss  Georgina 
had  climbed  higher  into  her  he 
reditary  tree.  She  prated  of  a 
great-uncle  who  married  a  niece 
of  Lord  Campbell — a  cousin  un 
derscored  in  her  records  as  Laird 
of  Barula — the  grand  Makemies, 
the  high-stepping  Gabies,  and  the 
learned  Gobies.  And,  as  for  Aunt 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Jane,  why,  she  was  dowered  with 
a  larger  chest  of  silver  than  any 
Jersey  woman  of  her  day.  Those 
records  of  her  paduasoys  and  ala- 
modes  would  have  sickened  a  Cus- 
tis  ;  and  her  love  -  affairs  !  —  the 
wench  herself  might  have  been 
astounded  at  hearing  that  she  once 
refused  a  patroon  of  Rensselaers- 
wyck  and  a  president  of  the  Col 
lege  of  New  Jersey. 

Quietly  Miss  Julie  would  sit 
and  listen  to  her  sister,  but,  once 
away  from  her,  she  would  assume 
what  she  believed  to  be  the  Almack 
manner,  call  imagination  to  her  aid, 
and  discourse  to  her  long-suffering 
acquaintance.  Aunt  Jane's  chest 
of  plate  became  a  veritable  crown 
42 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

furgeon  laden  with  tasters,  posset- 
cups,  punch-bowls,  muffineers,  and 
salvers  of  priceless  and  unique 
patterns.  Her  gowns  would  have 
done  credit  to  a  Drury  Lane 
queen.  The  patroon  of  Rens- 
selaerswyck  drank  a  flask  of  cam 
phor  to  forget  his  Jane.  Scores 
of  suitors  died  of  lacerated  hearts 
for  her  dear  sake,  and  the  presi 
dent  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey 
vowed  he  could  not  hear  the  word 
love  spoken  in  his  presence,  not 
even  in  his  young  gentlemen's 
conjugations. 

It  was  the  arrival,  from  the  vul 
garian    camp    of  Trenton,   of  one 
Mrs.    Snograss    that    first    brought 
interference  with  the  sway  of  these 
43 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

gentle  ladies.  That  year,  in  which 
Richard  Sheridan  first  played  the 
organ  in  St.  Paul's  and  Mrs.  Sno- 
grass  elected  to  reside  in  York, 
proved,  indeed,  an  eventful  one  for 
the  community.  The  genteel  por 
tion  of  Gotham  society,  like  the 
family  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield, 
was  wont  to  lead  a  peaceful  life. 
Most  of  its  adventures  befell  it 
by  its  own  fireside,  or  consisted 
of  migrations  from  the  blue  bed 
to  the  brown.  Or  there  was  the 
yearly  glimpse  of  the  Branch,  or 
Schooley's  Mountain,  and  on  rare 
occasions  venturesome  parents  took 
their  offspring  to  Hobuck  for  a 
fortnight — especially  if  they  were 
marriageable  daughters. 
44 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

The  Misses  Knickerbocker  had 
visited  the  latter  place  in  its  transi 
tion  period.  There  Georgina  pur 
chased  her  Davenport  tea-service 
for  a  song,  and  was  fond  of  telling 
of  the  fact.  And  Julie  treasured 
a  sweeter  memory  of  the  green 
Elysium  —  a  dried  -  up  flower  of 
memory,  but  once  a  rose,  never 
theless,  carefully  guarded  from  the 
world,  hidden  indeed  from  herself 
most  of  the  time. 

No  one  knew  exactly  how  it 
began — that  social  war  over  the 
two  capitals  of  Trenton  and  York. 
Black  "  Rushingbeau,"  the  York 
pronunciation  for  Mrs.  Snograss's 
serving-man,  Rochambeau,  meeting 
Juma  at  the  morning  market  in  the 
45 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

centre  of  the  green,  had  dubbed  the 
Knickerbocker  chickens  "  spinkle- 
shanked  fowls." 

"Wot  you  know  'bout  hens  in 
yo'  small  'count  town  !  "  retorted 
the  loyal  champion  of  York.  Like 
a  mushroom  the  story  grew,  and 
spread  from  Vesey  Street  kitchens 
into  sitting-rooms  and  parlors.  Of 
course  the  aspersive  attitude  toward 
York  was  that  of  Mrs.  Snograss 
reflected  in  Rochambeau. 

"  To  think  that  a  resident  of 
Trenton,  a  city  named  after  a  mere 
merchant,  should  have  the  effron 
tery  to  speak  disparagingly  of  our 
ancient  capital!"  cried  Mrs.  Rum- 
bell,  mother-in-law  of  Dr.  Slum- 
nus.  "  These  are  degenerate  times, 
46 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

alack !  What  would  poor  Roberta 
Johnstone  say  if  she  were  here  ? 
Let  me  see  how  many  royal  gov 
ernors  have  lived  amongst  us." 

Mrs.  Rumbell  counted  on  her 
slim,  old  fingers.  The  Knicker 
bocker  ladies,  who  lacked  the 
Rumbell  knowledge  of  their  city's 
past,  brought  all  their  brightest 
family  banners  to  the  fray. 

"  Lud,"  said  Miss  Georgina,  and 
Miss  Julie  promptly  echoed  her, 
"  I  have  never  even  visited  the 
spot  where  the  Snograss  woman 
came  from ;  I  know  that  the 
Comte  de  Survilliers,  or  plain  Mr. 
Bonaparte,  as  he  prefers  to  be 
called,  when  he  failed  to  secure 
Knickerbocker  Mansion  for  a  resi- 
47 


The   Ghosls  of  Their  Ancestors 

dence  decided  to  repair  thither. 
Poor  man,  he  must  have  lan 
guished  ! "  she  added  with  a  final 
snort. 

"  And  he  was  such  a  showy 
man  too  !  "  sighed  her  sister. 

Mrs.  Snograss,  learning  of  the 
ferment  her  servant  had  aroused, 
sagaciously  remarked  :  "  Let  them 
talk ;  their  chatter  is  a  lecture  to 
the  wise ;  as  for  capitals,  every 
body  knows,  counting  out  the  in 
habitants  of  this  mud-hole,  that 
Trenton  came  near  being  the  capi 
tal  of  the  whole  country !  " 

When   this  bombastic  statement 

was  hurled  at  Vesey  Street,  it  made 

as  much  of  a  sensation  as  the  late 

news     from     Cherubusco.       Most 

48 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

of  the  Government  officers  were 
classed  with  the  Snograss  widow 
by  the  affronted  Gothamites,  and 
Mrs.  Rumbell  said  openly  that 
if  she  had  her  life  to  live  over 
England  should  have  welcomed 
her  when  the  cross  of  St.  George 
was  torn  down  from  the  court 
house  flag-staff. 

The  winter  died  and  still  there 
was  no  cessation  of  hostilities. 
The  choir-room  of  St.  Paul's, 
where  the  ladies  of  the  Bengal 
mission  met  and  listened  to  itiner 
ant  lecturers,  or  sewed  garments 
for  the  needy,  was  the  usual  field 
for  battle.  When  Mrs.  Snograss 
arrived  late  one  day  for  Mr.  Tim- 
buckey's  talk  on  the  piety  of 
49 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

George  Crabbe,  she  was  unfortu 
nately  ushered  to  Miss  Georgina 
Knickerbocker's  bench.  That 
haughty  lady,  the  enemy  being 
comfortably  ensconced,  arose  and 
stalked  over  to  Mrs.  Rumbell's 
seat,  followed  by  her  sister  and  the 
Mansion  girls,  so  that  the  bustle 
ensuing  spoke  to  everybody  of 
what  was  taking  place.  Patricia 
smiled  a  mortified,  half-sad  smile 
at  Mrs.  Snograss,  but  the  Tren- 
tonian  only  accepted  it  as  addi 
tional  insult. 

A  month  later  Mrs.  Rumbell 
fainted  when  her  sewing-chair  was 
placed  by  the  disturber  of  her 
peace.  She  was  one  of  the  most 
violent  in  her  aversion  to  the  new- 
5° 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

comer.  The  Rev.  Samuel  Slum- 
nus  shook  his  fat  finger  at  his 
mother-in-law,  as  the  crafty  dow 
ager,  enjoying  the  excitement  cre 
ated  by  her  feigned  swoon,  could 
see  with  her  eyes  half-opened. 
Such  conduct  was  not  to  be  borne. 
"  Rebellion  in  my  own  family," 
fumed  the  perplexed  dominie.  "I 
must  put  a  stop  to  it  at  once."  In 
his  agitation  he  clasped  and  un 
clasped  his  hands  and  caressed  his 
sparse  locks.  When  a  hush  fell  at 
last  upon  the  room,  he  was  seen 
mounting  the  choir-platform. 

"  The    meeting    of   the    Easter 

Guild    will    be   held    this    year    at 

the  residence  of  Mrs.  Snograss,"  he 

sputtered.    For  a  full  minute  silence 

51 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

reigned — then  came  a  clangor  of 
tongues.  "  He  is  almost  as  red  in 
the  face  as  if  he  choked  on  the 
prune-pits  in  the  Knickerbocker 
fruit-cake,"  some  irreverent  one 
whispered.  It  was  said  afterward 
that  Mrs.  Snograss  had  put  a  five- 
dollar  bill  in  the  mission-box  as 
she  left  the  choir-room  that  morn 
ing — a  performance  not  without 
effect.  A  few  parishioners  were 
even  heard  to  lament  the  fact  that 
Dr.  Slumnus's  family  was  not  of 
the  same  standing  as  his  wife's. 
Miss  Georgina  declared  privately 
to  her  sister  that  any  one  who 
went  to  the  Snograss  woman's 
should  never  darken  the  door  of 
Goby  House  again.  But  when  the 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

day  preceding  Easter  came,  and 
she  heard  from  Julie  of  the  de 
light  the  town  was  taking  in  the 
prospect  of  viewing  the  much- 
talked  of  Snograss  interior,  one 
venturesome  housekeeper  having 
even  asserted  that  she  intended 
going  up  to  the  chambers,  Miss 
Georgina,  wild  with  jealousy,  de 
cided  to  carry  the  war  into  the 
enemy's  country. 

As  the  night  before  that  day  of 
days  died  away  and  clarion  cocks 
made  the  young  dawn  vocal,  eager 
hands  drew  back  the  curtains  of 
four-posters.  Above  the  green- 
gray  of  spring-time  streets  and 
lanes,  the  sentinel  tree-tops  pointed 
to  the  translucent  blue  of  a  smiling 
53 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

sky.      "  Day's  fair  and  all's  well !  " 
bawled   the    watch    as    they   blew 


out  their  smoking  lights.     Voices 
cracked  and  rusted  by  sleep  echoed 

54 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

the  cry  in  the  depths  of  soft, 
chintz-bound  coverlets.  "  My  best 
ferrandine  coat,"  mumbled  Miss 
Georgina  to  herself,  in  her  delight 
over  a  pleasing  picture  of  her  en 
trance  into  the  Snograss  parlor. 
She  let  the  bolster  slip  to  the  floor 
and  precipitated  her  head  against 
the  carved  laurel  leaves  of  the  top- 
board,  all  unconsciously.  Bright 
were  the  visions  of  cherished  fala- 
fals  and  gewgaws  that  came  to  the 
members  of  the  Easter  Guild  as  they 
parted  company  with  Morpheus. 

Mrs.  Rumbell,  looking  from  a 
casement  in  the  rectory,  felt  the 
sweetness  of  the  season  fall  upon 
her.  That  patch  of  fresh  sky, 
suggestive  of  new  life  and  a  swift- 
55 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

footed  May,  was  more  to  her  than 
a  volley  of  sermons.  The  snow 
still  lay  on  hill  and  heath.  Father 
Winter,  neglectful  of  one  of  his 
worlds,  was  sporting  among  the 
northern  mountains.  Oh,  the  peace 
of  it!  Why  should  she  care  if  the 
wealthy  Mrs.  Snograss  had  come 
to  York  with  her  Trenton  innova 
tions  ?  All  her  past  grievances  were 
forgotten.  In  her  blissful  state 
she  felt  she  could  even  go  the 
length  of  sewing  whalebone  in  her 
second-best  silk  skirt  to  conform 
to  the  ridiculous  fashion  of  stiff 
ened  skirts,  introduced  by  that 
lady.  Everything  was  changing  ! 
What  could  she,  frail  and  old, 
gain  by  wrestling  with  the  times  ? 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Across  the  way,  torn  landscape 
shades  blinded  the  windows  of 
Johnstone  House.  Roberta  was 
dead  and  her  home  awaited  a  new 
tenant.  Beyond  lay  the  Bowling 
Green,  the  background  of  her  long 
life — witness  to  all  the  parts  the 
stage-master,  Fate,  had  dealt  out 
to  her.  Joys  and  sorrows  marked 
its  worn  paths.  The  city  of  her 
golden  time  was  fading  away.  No 
halloos  of  eager  huntsmen,  usher 
ing  in  Aurora,  greeted  her  ears  as 
of  yore.  Only  a  stray  thrush,  mis 
taking  the  season,  trilled  liquid 
notes  to  his  lost  mates  on  a  hem 
lock  by  her  chamber. 

Soon    the   daylight's    eyes   were 
wide  open,  and  the  door-knockers, 
57 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

across  the  church-yard,  began  to 
glow  like  miniature  suns.  Festi 
vals  and  holidays  always  brought 
the  housekeepers  of  York  to  mar 
ket,  followed  by  their  faithful 
blacks  carrying  little  wicker  bas 
kets.  They  tripped  first  to  Mrs. 
Sykes's  booth,  where  one  could 
find  all  the  season's  delicacies ; 
then  to  the  wintergreen  -  berry 
man,  and  on  through  the  circle 
of  venders.  The  mystical  joy  of 
Eastertide  that  flooded  the  heart 
of  Mrs.  Rumbell  in  the  dawn 
swept  through  the  concourse  at 
the  market.  The  perfume  of  the 
southern  lilies,  the  merry  cries  of 
hucksters,  and  the  shrill  calls  of 
gutter-waifs  as  they  tugged  at  the 
58 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

skirts  of  Cock-a-nee-nae  Bess  were 
all  permeated  with  it. 

The  prattling  groups  about  Mrs. 
Sykes  ofttimes  broke  away  to  take 
sly  looks  across  the  green  at 
the  distant  Broadway.  "  Will  she 
come?"  "Shall  we  extend  our 
hands  to  her,  or  just  curtesy?" 
These  and  many  like  questions 
went  for  naught  that  morning. 
The  blinds  of  Snograss  house  were 
parted;  a  turbaned  negress  came 
out  and  washed  the  entry.  Once 
the  opening  of  a  door  thrilled  the 
curious  dames.  But  the  new 
comer  was  waiting  to  enjoy  her 
full  triumph  in  the  afternoon. 

No  one  looked  toward  the  house 
on  Vesey  Street.  The  Knick- 
59 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

erbockers  never  frequented  the 
market — Jonathan  Knickerbocker 
forbade  his  family's  participation 
in  such  vulgar  customs. 

Georgina  did  not  descend  to  her 
sitting-room  in  as  pleasant  a  humor 
as  was  to  have  been  expected  from 
her  waking  contemplations.  She 
jangled  her  keys  so  ominously  as 
she  strutted  through  the  halls  and 
pantries  that  Julie  was  afraid  to 
venture  out.  On  the  day  before 
Easter  the  little  woman  was  in  the 
habit  of  stealing  away  to  a  by-lane 
near  the  market.  From  a  discreet 
distance  she  directed  her  purchases. 
Children  would  run  for  her  oranges, 
the  cock-a-nee-nae  necessary  to  her 
happiness,  the  boxes  of  Poppleton 
60 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

sweets  and  foreign  nuts.  When 
they  were  very  swift  she  would 
reward  them  with  as  much  as  a 
dime  apiece,  so  great  was  the  de 
light  she  felt  in  providing  a  secret 
store  of  goodies. 

To-day  there  was  no  escaping. 
The  market  was  sold  out  and  the 
booths  carried  away  before  she  fin 
ished  helping  her  sister  tie  up  the 
Easter  presents.  It  was  a  custom 
among  the  ladies  of  York  to  ex 
change  chaste  and  useful  gifts  of 
their  own  handiwork.  Worsted 
hat-bag  covers  and  silk  mittens 
were  the  favorites.  Mrs.  Rumbell 
was  the  one  exception  to  the  rule. 
She  still  cut  up  her  father's  bro 
cade  vests  into  small  squares,  which 
61 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

she  filled  with  dried  rose-geranium 
leaves  and  distributed  among  her 
acquaintance.  Three  generations 
had  received  these  fragrant  marks 
of  her  regard,  and  the  wits  ac 
cused  her  relative  of  having  been 
a  Hollander,  addicted  to  the  habit 
of  swarthing  himself  in  superfluous 
garments.  Members  of  the  Scrug- 
gins  set  went  further,  and  hinted 
maliciously  that  he  was  a  dealer  in 
old  clothes. 

Miss  Georgina  preferred  silk 
mittens,  and  gave  and  received  no 
less  than  a  dozen  pairs  a  season. 
If  the  ones  sent  to  her  were  of  a 
color  she  did  not  like,  she  kept 
them  for  a  year  or  two,  and  then 
packed  them  off  again.  This  was 
62 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

quite  permissible  in  York.  On 
one  occasion  Georgina's  own  mit 
tens  were  returned  to  her,  but  far 
from  being  angry,  she  smiled  a 
grim  welcome  at  them,  and  re 
marked  to  her  household  that 
she  was  glad  to  see  them  back 
for  they  were  at  least  fashioned  of 
pure  silk,  and  that  was  more  than 
she  could  say  of  many  pairs  that 
had  been  sent  to  her. 

Quaint  little  ladies  of  Gotham- 
town — quaint  little  old-time  fig 
ures  ! — flitting  in  and  out  of  your 
ancient  homes  like  shadows ! — who 
cares  to-day  for  your  petty  gifts, 
your  plans,  and  jealousies  ?  Only 
one  or  two  remember  you.  The 
walks  you  trod  are  vanishing,  the 

63 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

water-front  gardens  where  you 
smiled  and  languished  at  sedate 
gentlemen  are  mostly  hidden  'neath 
bricks  and  mortar,  and  the  very 
buildings  you  were  born  in,  that 
stood  so  long  impervious  to  the 
rude  hands  of  progress,  are  being 
demolished.  Those  musty  gar 
ments  of  Juma's  "  ole  Miss,"  the 
friend  of  Mrs.  Rumbell,  are  now 
folded  in  some  attic  trunk  with  your 
own  pet  vanities.  What  would  the 
haughty  Miss  Georgina  have  said 
if  she  could  have  gazed  through 
the  door  of  the  future  and  seen  a 
Scruggins  brat  grown  into  a  leader 
of  fashion  and  carrying  her  own  tor 
toise  fan — sold  with  other  Knicker 
bocker  effects  at  the  last  vendue  ? 
64 


The  Ghosts  oj  Their  Ancestors 

If  one  had  loitered  in  Vesey 
Street  that  afternoon  before  Easter 
so  many  years  past,  one  would,  no 


doubt,  have  joined  the  stragglers 
about  the  gates  of  Snograss  House, 
and  watched  the  members  of  St. 

65 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Paul's  Easter  Guild  mince  up 
Broadway,  carefully  keeping  to  the 
pave.  The  Flying  Swan  from 
Elizabethtown  was  due  at  four 
o'clock,  and  those  timid  ladies  of 
the  long  ago  knew  that  the  sway 
ing,  swaggering  bedlam  of  a  coach 
would  enjoy  spattering  them  as  it 
rattled  up  to  the  City  Hotel.  On 
the  porch  of  that  fine  hostelry, 
where  Mr.  Clarke  once  wooed  his 
muse  and  scores  of  thirsty  throats 
the  wine-cup,  stood  the  host,  Davy 
Juniper,  whose  very  name  was  sy 
nonymous  with  cheer.  Through 
the  half-opened  door  came  loud 
gusts  of  unceremonious  laughter 
as  the  portly  innkeeper,  curveting 
on  tiptoe,  swung  his  garland  of 
66 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Easter  green  over  the  sign-board. 
Davy's  eyes  were  riveted  on  the 
flashing  colors  of  feminine  gear 
across  the  street.  Now  Mrs.  Rum- 
bell  tottered  by  and  bobbed  to 
him;  now  a  bevy  of  the  Scrug- 
gins  set  passed  the  house  opposite, 
and  gazed  in,  like  forbidden  Peris 
at  the  door  of  Paradise.  Some 
times  the  street  was  covered  with 
pedestrians.  The  quality  abroad 
affected  the  good  man's  spirits. 
He  began  to  pipe  some  merry 
verses  from  a  tap-room  ditty  : 

Major  Macpherson  heav'd  a  sigh, 

Tol,  de  diddle,  dol,  dol; 
And  Major   Macpherson   didn't  know 

why, 

Tol,  de  diddle,  dol,  dol; 
67 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

But  Major  Macpherson  soon  found  out, 

Tol,  de  diddle,  dol,  dol; 
'Twas  all  for  Miss  Lavinia  Scout, 

Tol,  de  diddle,  dol,  dol. 

The  night  was  creeping  on, 
clear  and  cold,  and  there  would  be 
full  settles  about  his  waggish  fires. 
In  the  sky,  puffs  of  fleecy  clouds 
were  hurrying  away  like  sheep 
eager  to  reach  the  fold  of  mother- 
dusk.  Off  in  the  west,  where  twi 
light  parted  her  curtains,  glowed 
faint  streaks  of  yellow  and  rose 
color,  promises  of  daffodil  mead 
ows  and  flower-strewn  lands  to 
come. 

He  was  turning  for  a  parting 
survey  of  the  street  when  his  ears 
caught  the  tremulous  motion  of 
68 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

some  vehicle.  Dashing  out  of 
Vesey  Street  came  the  Knicker 
bocker  chariot,  creaking  protesta 
tions  as  it  swung  up  to  the  Sno- 
grass  stile. 

Out  popped  Miss  Georgina,  fol 
lowed  by  her  sister.  Never  had 
Miss  Georgina  seemed  so  like  a 
man-of-war's  man  in  a  flounce. 
Miss  Julie  shrunk  into  insignifi 
cance  beside  her.  Tavern  maids, 
attracted  by  the  noise  and  heed 
less  of  the  cold,  poked  their  heads 
out  of  dormer  windows.  The 
passengers  on  the  Flying  Swan  just 
turning  the  pike  slipped  cautiously 
from  the  seats  behind  the  guard 
to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  excite 
ment.  Juma,  hurrying  home  to 
69  ' 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

the  mansion,  paused  for  a  moment 
to  see  the  sisters  of  his  master 
step  down.  "  Ramrods — old  Ram 
rods,"  jeered  Mr.  Juniper,  as  he 
flung  a  last  defiant  "  tol,  de  rol," 
at  the  gaping  street. 

The  door  of  the  tavern  had  no 
more  than  swung  to  when  that  of 
Snograss  House  opened.  Every 
inmate  of  the  room  eyed  Miss 
Georgina  as  she  greeted  the  mistress. 
There  was  an  element  of  hostility 
in  their  ceremonious  handshake. 
As  the  sister  of  the  autocrat  of 
York  viewed  the  rich  furnish 
ings  of  the  apartment,  the  gold- 
legged  piano  and  the  silk-covered 
furniture,  her  lips  straightened  into 
a  sinister  line.  Her  own  possessions 
70 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

shrunk  into  insignificance  com 
pared  with  this  elegance.  Even  the 
long  shut-up  state  parlor  in  Knick 
erbocker  Mansion  could  hardly  vie 
with  it.  Lady  Tyron,  the  last 
lady  of  York,  had  fitted  that  room 
with  heirlooms  from  her  English 
home.  Jonathan  was  in  the  habit 
of  calling  it  the  finest  apartment  in 
the  State.  He  prated  of  its  mould 
ering  beauties  often,  forgetting 
that  it  was  lauded  by  his  towns 
men  long  before  the  Knickerbock 
ers  entered  its  portals. 

The  contents  of  the  Snograss 
parlor  had  given  other  Gothamites 
momentary  uneasiness  that  after 
noon.  Of  course  no  one  felt  they 
possessed  the  Knickerbocker  right 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

to  feel  deeply  aggrieved  over  them. 
Mrs.  Rumbell,  spying  the  oil-paint 
ed  views  of  Trenton  by  the  entrance 
door,  hurriedly  shut  her  eyes,  vow 
ing  the  calm  feeling  in  her  heart 
should  not  be  disturbed.  As  pen 
ance  for  the  pain  which  the  pict 
ures  of  the  hated  capital  gave  her 
she  seized  a  dish  of  quince  scones 
and  ran  with  them  to  Dr.  Slum- 
nus.  Refreshments  had  not  been 
passed  about,  and  the  rector  of  St. 
Paul's  signalled  to  his  mother-in- 
law  not  to  approach.  Thinking 
that  he  preferred  the  gooseberry 
tarts  on  an  opposite  table  she  hast 
ened  over  for  them,  until  Samuel, 
visibly  embarrassed  by  her  atten 
tions,  left  his  comfortable  cush- 
72 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ioned  chair  and  took  refuge  in  the 
hall. 

If  any  one  had    imagined  that 
Mrs.   Snograss  would    forgive  the 


various    slights    put    upon    her    in 
York,  she  or  he   was   doomed   to 

73 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

disappointment.  All  the  pleasant 
things  they  said  to  her  about  her 
costly  egg-shell  china,  the  glass 
aviary  with  the  artificial  tree,  and 
other  luxuries,  failed  to  soften  her 
vindictive  mood.  Each  timidly 
expressed  compliment  recalled  to 
her  a  covert  sneer,  a  deprecating 
smile,  or  a  garment  hastily  drawn 
aside.  As  Miss  Georgina,  on  be 
half  of  the  presiding  committee, 
counted  up  the  Easter  gifts  the 
church  would  give  to  the  poor,  the 
Trenton  widow  whom  she  feared  as 
a  rival  was  musing  on  past  insults. 

"Ten  tin  trumpets,"  called  the 
loud  voice. 

"  I  can    humble    her,"  thought 
the  Snograss  woman. 
74 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

"  Ten  surprise  packages,"  con 
tinued  the  other. 

"  I'll  give  the  Knickerbocker 
family  a  surprise,"  spoke  the  in 
dignant  Trentonian  half  aloud. 

She  was  naturally  an  amiable 
person,  but  the  aristocratic  con 
gregation  of  St.  Paul's  had  impaired 
her  temper,  proffering  her  vinegar 
when  she  had  sought  the  wine  of 
good-fellowship.  She  stared  at  the 
bedizened  figure  of  the  sister  of 
the  autocrat  of  York  a  moment 
longer,  then  turned  meaningly  to 
the  only  member  of  the  Scruggins 
set  who  happened  to  be  present. 
There  was  already  a  look  of  tri 
umph  in  her  eyes.  "  She  shall 
bend  to  the  dust  soon,"  she  whis- 
75 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

pered.  Then  she  arose  from  her 
sofa,  clashing  the  folds  of  her  til- 
ter  until  the  room  was  full  of  lus 
tring  mockery.  Everything  was 
in  readiness  for  Mrs.  Snograss's  cli 
max  of  the  afternoon.  Revenge 
spread  out  its  hands  and  gave  her 
tongue. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  '  The 
School  for  Scandal/  Miss  Knicker 
bocker?"  she  asked,  wreathing  her 
face  in  an  inscrutable  smile. 

Glad  of  an  opportunity  for  dis 
playing  her  knowledge,  Georgina 
rose  eagerly  to  the  bait.  "  I  saw 
the  play  at  the  Park  in  the  twen 
ties.  'Twas  a  prodigious  fine  cast, 
if  I  remember." 

"  They  say  a  new  Sheridan  has 
76 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

come  to  our  city."  Every  Gotham- 
ite  loved  that  phrase,  "our  city," 
and  Mrs.  Snograss  dwelt  on  the 
words  with  the  nicest  shade  of 
mimicry.  "  He  is  preparing  a  lit 
tle  comedy  I  might  dub  the  same 
name,"  she  snickered. 

"An  author  man?"  asked  the 
Knickerbocker  voice  that  always 
filled  the  room.  "  What  does  he 
want  here  ?" 

A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  the 
company.  Eyes  were  turned  on 
the  Turkey  carpet  before  the  fire 
place  where  the  great  ladies  stood. 
Ears  were  cocked  in  their  direc 
tion.  The  pirouetting  woodland 
fay  embellishing  the  tambour  fire 
screen,  worked  by  the  Trentonian 
77 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

when  she  attended  Madame  de  Foe's 
Academy  for  gentle  children,  wore 
a  more  conscious  smirk  than  usual. 
Even  the  twin  Bow  dogs  which 
had  held  their  tufted  tails  erect 
through  the  stormiest  family  fra 
cases  seemed  agitated. 

"  He  plays  the  organ  at  our 
church,"  she  answered  with  forced 
deliberation  ;  then  in  a  whisper  loud 
enough  to  have  done  credit  to  a 
lady  on  the  boards,  she. added,  "and 
when  away  from  that  instrument 
spends  his  time  making  love  to 
your  niece  Patricia." 

Mrs.  Snograss  gave  a  hysteri 
cal  laugh  and  retreated  a  few 
rods. 

A  thunder-bolt  falling  at  Miss 
78 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Georgina's  feet  could  not  have 
created  more  consternation.  For 
a  moment  she  glared  at  the  creat 
ure  before  her  as  if  she  were  a 
butterfly  or  a  beetle — something  to 
be  crushed  and  killed — then  re 
membering  that  politeness  is  always 
a  trusty  weapon,  she  roared  in  as 
soft  a  fashion  as  she  could,  "  You 
are  mistaken,  madam  !  " 

"  My  Julie  saw  them  kissing  less 
than  an  hour  ago  on  the  Marine 
Parade!" 

"  Ladies  who  make  confidants 
of  their  servants  are  often  misin 
formed,"  the  other  hissed. 

By  this  time  all  Vesey  Street 
was  on  its  feet.  The  plans  of  the 
day  were  forgotten.  Every  one 
79 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

was  too  stunned  to  speak.  A 
Knickerbocker  openly  insulted — 
the  thought  was  appalling  !  Miss 
Julie,  who  was  lingering  some  Sno- 
grass  ambrotypes,  let  them  slip  to 
the  floor  in  her  excitement.  She 
had  not  been  so  much  agitated  for 
years — not  since  a  certain  ship 
sailed  out  of  Amboy  for  the  Indies 
bearing  a  youthful  captain  whom 
Judge  Knickerbocker  had  bidden 
her  forget. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  she  gasped — and 
there  were  those  who  afterward 
declared  she  looked  almost  pleased. 
"  My  niece  has  a  lover  !  "  But  in 
another  breath,  "  Oh,  what  will 
her  father  say  ?  " 

"Jerusalem,  restrain  yourself," 
80 


"  My  Julie  saw  them  kissing  less  than  an 
hour  ago  on  the  marine  -parade  " 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

called  her  sister.  That  lady  was 
sweeping  proudly  from  the  room. 

"  Impudence  !  "  she  said,  thrust 
ing  her  sister  out  of  the  hall. 
When  the  cold  air  of  the  street 
touched  their  hot  faces,  she  spoke 
again.  Her  anger  was  fast  en 
gulfed  in  a  wave  of  bitter  humili 
ation. 

"  We  are  disgraced,  Jerusalem! 
The  Knickerbocker  name  dishon 
ored!  The  man  is  a  person  of 
common  family.  I  fear  the  Gob 
ies  and  the  Gabies  are  turning  in 
their  graves.  What  would  Aunt 
Jane  have  thought?" 

"  They  kissed  in  the  shrubbery — 
My  niece  in  love  ? "  Miss  Julie 
was  whispering  to  herself  unheeded. 
81 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

The  faded  leaves  of  the  one  flower 
in  her  heart  were  stirring  gently. 

Now  and  then  the  faint  note  of 
a  bell  drifted  on  the  air.  The  old 
sexton  of  St.  Paul's  was  preparing 
his  metal  children  for  their  long 
anthem. 

"  Oh,  joyous  night,  make  haste 
— make  haste,"  they  tinkled  to  the 
taper-like  star  above  them. 

"Disgraced!"  muttered  Miss 
Georgina. 


JKapter  Three  ~G 


HE  glimmering 
lantern    which 
the    serving- 
maid     Betty 
carried  seemed 
like      a     huge 
firefly      come 
back  to  a  land 
of     blooms. 
Sometimes     in 
dim  alleyways  it 
caught  in  her  flap 
ping  garments,  and 
her     two     mistresses 
were  forced  to  cling 
together    until    they    reached    the 
next  patch  of  moonlight.     When 
85 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

their  half-tasted  dinner  was  fin 
ished,  and  the  silver  counted  and 
locked  in  the  cherry  cabinet,  Geor- 
gina  commanded  her  sister  to  step 
over  with  her  to  the  mansion. 
Jonathan  never  permitted  the  fam 
ily  vehicle  to  be  brought  out  when 
the  world  was  not  looking,  and  his 
womenkind  were  used  to  tramping 
through  the  darkness.  Julie  was 
reluctant  to  go  at  first,  but  the 
other's  anger  flamed  so  high  she 
could  not  help  catching  some  of 
the  sparks. 

"  Would  you  allow  your  niece  to 
ruin  her  life  by  marrying  a  man 
who  gains  his  livelihood  playing 
a  musical  instrument  ?  Methinks 
you  have  a  fondness  for  horn- 
86 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

pipers  and  such.  There  was  Signer 
Succhi,  our  dancing-master,  I  rec 
ollect  " — nodding  her  head — "  he 
used  to  call  you  *  little  peach-blos 
som  ' — his  little  peach-blossom  !  " 

Julie  smiled  at  Georgina's  latest 
feat  of  memory  ;  then  she  turned 
about  and  gazed  into  the  dying 
embers.  For  a  moment  she  stood 
beside  a  merry-eyed  youth  who 
dared  her  to  prick  the  signer's 
silken  calves.  Did  he  really  per 
fect  their  symmetry  with  cotton 
as  was  said,  she  wondered  ?  Alas, 
that  she  was  born  timorous. 

"  Are    your    wits    leaving    you, 

Jerusalem  ?  "  continued  the  other — 

"  you  who  wear  Aunt  Jane's  hair 

locket  and  have  been  for  years  an 

8? 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ornament  in  the  highest  sphere  of 
this  city — now  being  ruined  by 
Trentonians  and  other  foreigners. 
Where  is  your  boasted  allegiance 
to  those  of  your  family  who  have 
gone  before  you  ? " 

Threatened  and  cajoled  by  turns 
Miss  Julie  was  led  into  the 
night.  "  The  Snograss  woman 
may  have  lied,"  came  the  consol 
ing  thought.  She  cheered  her 
self  with  it  hurrying  through  the 
snow. 

Up  Church  Street  they  stumbled 
past  huts  and  houses.  Warm  win 
dows  beckoned  to  them.  Georgina 
had  forgotten  the  mittens  for  her 
nieces.  The  scene  at  the  Snograss 
House  was  uppermost  in  her  mind. 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

"  What  a  sly  minx  Patricia  is  to 
have  kept  the  disgraceful  affair 
from  us  so  long,"  she  was  thinking. 
"  Could  that  skulking  Juma  have 
helped  her  ?  He  knew  enough  to 
bamboozle  one.  There  was  a  re 
port  that  old  Roberta  Johnstone 
even  read  him  novels."  The  boist 
erous  wind,  tossing  the  budding 
lilac  branches  about  the  statues  in 
the  Knickerbocker  garden  which 
the  girl  in  the  window-seat  was 
watching,  came  shrieking  out  of 
unexpected  openings  and  buffeted 
her  aunts  in  the  face. 

Now    they    were     entering    the 

narrow    passage    that   opened    into 

Vesey    Street.      The    tavern    lights 

twinkled     beyond,    but    drear    and 

89 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

lonely  the  artery  for  cut-throats  ap 
peared. 

Georgina,  brave  and  intrepid,  was 
still  nursing  her  wrath  when  a  mist 
came  before  her  eyes.  "  I  see  !  I 
feel  queer!  "  she  cried.  Her  com 
panions  were  shaking  like  autumn 
leaves.  "  Oh,  don't  pause,  sister  !  " 
squeaked  terrified  Julie,  "  here's 
where  that  picaroon  in  the  black 
mask  was  wont  to  hide.  A  Dick 
Turpin  may  be  concealed  yonder  !  " 

"  Hist !  "  called  Georgina,  as  if 
speaking  to  some  vermin  of  the 
night.  A  shadowy  mocking  face 
was  rising  up  before  her.  She  be 
gan  to  tremble — where  had  she 
seen  it  ?  Yes,  'twas  the  face  of  the 
ancestress  whose  portrait  Jonathan 
90 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

took  down  from  the  line  of  Knick 
erbockers  in  the  parlor.  "  My 
nerves,"  she  gasped.  "  Come,  let 
us  haste,  you  trembling  fools !  '3 
Once  in  the  driveway  to  the  house 
she  denied  her  fright.  Betty  was 
scolded  for  stumbling  over  a  brier- 
bush.  When  the  long  flight  of 
steps  was  reached,  she  rushed  at 
them  boldly.  "  Knock,  Jerusa 
lem,"  she  commanded. 

The  little  woman  tried  to  sound 
the  clapper,  then  fell  back  ex 
hausted.  Georgina,  enraged,  seized 
it  and  thumped  violently  upon  the 
plate.  The  sounds  reverberated 
through  the  night,  clashing  against 
the  bell-notes  and  the  sound  of  the 
swaying  elms. 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Jonathan  and  his  daughters 
sprang  from  their  seats.  The 
Santa  Cruz  invoices  slipped  to  the 
floor  and  fluttered  after  the  wool 
balls  like  merchants  aspiring  to 
new  possessions.  What  cared  the 
horn  of  plenty  on  the  door  for  the 
profits  of  the  Fleet  Sally  ?  It  had 
watched  the  ebb  and  flow  of  lord 
lier  fortunes.  "That  ear-splitting 
bell  hubbub — and  now  visitors," 
said  the  master,  advancing  to  his 
offspring  as  if  they  were  the  cause 
of  this  new  annoyance. 

Juma,  already  half-drunk  with 
dreams,  rubbed  his  dazed  head  and 
hastened  toward  the  entry.  Was 
Toussaint  calling  him  ?  Did  the 
chair  of  Marie  du  Buc  de  Marci- 
92 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

nelle,  the  Elizabethtown  beauty, 
pause  before  the  hair-dresser's  sign  ? 
Then  time  and  place  came  back. 
Realizing  that  he  was  watched,  he 
drew  the  great  bolt  with  a  show 
of  strength,  and  in  bounded  the 
gale-blown  humanity. 

"  You  ? "  queried  the  head  of 
the  Knickerbockers.  That  was  the 
only  greeting  he  gave  his  near 
est  relations  on  Easter  eve.  He 
glanced  at  Julie  to  see  whether 
she  secreted  any  packages  about 
her  person. 

Georgina,  entering  the  room, 
her  face  stern  and  white,  said,  eye 
ing  him,  "  Prepare  yourself  for  a 
shock." 

He  returned  the  challenge. 
93 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Had  she  been  tampering  with 
her  five-per-cents  for  Peruvian  in 
vestments  ?  Was  it  the  old  plaint — 
Jerusalem's  frivolity  ?  Why  did  the 
woman  gaze  at  him  so  mournfully  ? 
"  Prepare  yourself,"  she  con 
tinued,  her  voice  rising  to  a 
shriek.  "  Patricia — your  Pa 
tricia  —  has  disgraced 
us!" 

The  girl  peering 
from  the  land 
ing  heard  her 
name  called. 
Her  secret  was 
known  to  the 
world  and 
would  soon  be 
an  implement 
94 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

of  torture.  The  arbutus  fell  from 
her  bodice  unheeded.  She  could 
not  meet  that  cruel  group  below  ! 

"  Richard,"  sighed  the  stray 
gusts  of  wind  on  the  staircase ; 
"  Richard "  chimed  the  patient 
clock.  She  crept  closer  to  the 
baluster  railing.  Some  mysterious 
force  was  guiding — impelling  her 
onward.  Out  of  the  shadows 
flashed  a  face.  Like  a  smile  it 
vanished.  She  ran  to  the  steps. 
For  a  moment  she  stood  silent, 
gaining  courage  to  descend. 

At  the  very  moment  when  she 

had  glanced  back  tremblingly  for 

a    parting     benediction     from    the 

stars,  a  figure  wrapped   in  a  great- 

95 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 


coat  was  hurrying  out  of  the  Sheri 
dan  garden.  It  was  Patricia's  lover. 
The  youth  often  came  to  gaze  at 
her  home  after  sleep 
locked  all  the  doors 
of  the  world  but 
the  dream  door  for 
which  he  had  never 
yet  found  a  key. 
Then  the  day 
time's  barriers  were 
broken  and  she  was 
his  alone.  Under 
the  Knickerbocker 
elm -trees  he  would  stand,  some 
times,  a  wild,  impassioned  trouba 
dour,  aflame  with  songs  of  love 
for  his  imprisoned  mate.  Again 
she  came  to  him  a  vision  pure  and 
96 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ethereal  and  he  folded  her  to  his 
heart  in  memory  of  one  perfect 
Junetime  day — while  multitudes 
of  roses  shed  their  fragrant  petals 
and  birds  trilled  a  divine  chorus. 
To-night,  with  the  wondrous  Easter 
peace  upon  him,  she  seemed  to 
walk  by  his  side.  Those  bell- 
notes  drifting  on  the  air  were  the 
music  of  their  lives.  Hand  in 
hand  they  floated  on  the  flow  of  the 
darkness.  Through  the  days — and 
the  years.  Through  the  springs 
— and  the  summers.  Always  to 
gether  !  Little  forms  clutched 
their  knees.  Carking  care  crept 
out  of  black  coverts.  Death  beck 
oned  to  them  in  the  distance — 
still,  there  was  the  scent  of  June- 
97 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

time  roses.  Ah,  God  !  those  roses 
of  love,  they  were  theirs  for  all 
eternity  ! 

As  he  neared  Knickerbocker 
Mansion  his  mood  changed.  The 
bells  were  dying  away  again.  Old 
Jenkins  up  in  the  steeple  above  the 
lights  of  the  drowsy  city  was  let 
ting  his  metal  children  rest.  Their 
task  would  soon  be  over,  for  the 
faithful  moss-hung  clock  already 
pointed  to  the  nightcap  hour.  The 
rushes  in  the  poorer  regions  near 
the  waste  lands  were  flickering  out 
— only  the  gentry  street  was  still 
aglow. 

A  flock  of  snow-sparrows  caught 
by  the  gale  dashed  past  the  youth, 
chattering  bird  imprecations.  Be- 
98 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

yond,  in  the  moonlight,  loomed 
Her  dwelling-place.  Coldly  white 
and  dreary  it  looked.  Everything 
about  it  was  mute  and  unaware  of 
the  joyous  night.  Did  Juma  keep 
his  promise  and  give  her  the  arbu 
tus  ?  A  longing  thrilled  him  to 
know  her  thoughts  at  this  hour. 
Were  they  of  him  ?  He  hastened 
into  the  carriage-path,  following 
the  footprints  made  by  the  trio 
from  Goby  House.  The  leaden 
statues  leered  at  him  in  the  spaces 
between  the  evergreens.  Bare 
shrubs  sighed  their  gusty  dirges  at 
his  heels. 

At  the  lordly  flight  of  steps  he 
paused    and   hesitated.     Then    her 
pleading  voice  seemed  to  rise  on 
99 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

the  wind.  A  strange  intuition 
swayed  him.  The  great  door  of 
the  mansion  was  moving,  opening 
inward.  He  asked  himself  if  he 
were  going  stark  mad,  as  he  crept 
to  it  softly,  like  a  thief. 

A  cry  met  his  ears,  and  he 
staggered  back — "  I  love  him  !  I 
shall  love  him  always!"  came  the 
words. 

"  Patricia,"  he  whispered  breath 
lessly. 

Before  him  was  the  dismal 
length  of  the  hall  that  he  had 
never  hoped  to  enter.  Slowly  he 
reeled  forward. 

While  her  lover  was  coming  to 
her  through  the  night,  the  girl 

100 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

was  descending  the  staircase.  At 
the  bottom  she  paused  and  re 
mained  very  still.  From  the  room 
beyond  an  army  of  candle  rays 
was  slipping  underneath  the  green 
sarcenet  curtain  and  capering 
gnome-like  about  her  feet.  They 
were  waiting  for  her  in  there  !  A 
prowling  rat  scampered  down  the 
dark  passage.  In  another  moment 
she  would  stand  before  her  indig 
nant  family.  The  curtain  shifted 
and  shadows  chased  away  the  light. 
Behind  the  awful  thing  were  their 
watchful  eyes.  She  began  to  trem 
ble  and  stretch  out  her  hands  im 
ploringly  at  the  space  before  it. 
The  courage  that  had  brought  her 
so  near  to  the  chamber  of  judg- 
101 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ment  was  fast  vanishing  when 
Juma  came  slowly  out  of  the 
pantry.  He  did  not  speak,  but 
his  sad  old  eyes  rested  on  her  lov 
ingly.  Stifled  sobs  shook  her 
slender  frame  as  she  nestled  close 
to  him,  seeking  the  help  that  he 
was  powerless  to  give.  A  wilder 
gust  of  wind  blew  the  neglected 
spray  of  arbutus  from  the  land 
ing  above  and  it  fell  at  her  feet 
like  a  message.  She  looked  at  it 
a  moment,  then  slowly  parted  the 
veil  of  the  inevitable.  The  eyes 
she  feared  were  now  upon  her. 

Jonathan,  choleric  with  indigna 
tion,  stood  by  his  desk,  clenching 
his  hands.  At  the  sight  of  the 
child  whose  conduct  swept  aside 

102 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

every  Knickerbocker  law  his  rage 
overflowed,  and  the  room  was  full 
of  a  torrent  of  reproaches.  Once 
he  came  near  knocking  over  a  bust 
of  Mr.  Washington,  the  property 
of  a  Makemie,  and  Miss  Julie  gave 
a  slight  scream. 

Patricia  heard  him  silently.  She 
was  calmer  than  any  of  the  spec 
tators.  The  other  Mansion  girls 
continually  slid  off  their  chairs  and 
made  weird  gurgles  with  their 
throats.  Several  times  they  almost 
interrupted  their  parent.  As  for 
Georgina,  her  high-built  hair  shook 
like  a  barrister's  wig  in  the  heat  of 
a  court  appeal. 

"  You  have  disgraced  us — a  com 
mon  follower  fit  for  a  tire-woman ! 
103 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Yes,  miss,  in  your  veins  flows  the 
Knickerbocker  blood,  though  I 
cannot  credit  it.  Say  'tis  a  lie  ere 
I  turn  you  out.  Say  'tis  the  fabri 
cation  of  that  catamount  Trenton 
woman,  envious  of  your  aunts'  repu 
tation.  Speak,  girl !  Is  it  true 
that  the  town  has  seen  you  keep 
ing  trysts  with  him  at  the  Battery  ? 
Speak!"  gasped  the  worthy  man. 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Patricia,  trying 
to  keep  herself  strong  for  battle. 

The  draught  from  the  half 
opened  door,  which  Juma  in  his 
excitement  had  neglected  to  shut, 
swept  the  chimney  piece  and  ended 
the  life  of  a  candle. 

"  Look !  "  said  Jonathan  dragging 
his  daughter  by  the  arms,  and  point- 
104 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ing  to  the  portraits  along  the  wall. 
"  You  are  the  first  to  disgrace 
them !  They  were  as  fine  a  line 
of  men  and  women  as  was  ever 
bred  up  in  America.  Think  you 
they  stepped  down  from  their  high 
places  for  silly  fancies  ?  Think 
you  they  forgot  they  were  born  to 
superior  circumstances  and  sullied 
their  reputations  ? " 

Here  the  autocrat  of  York's 
voice  broke  slightly.  The  same 
ghostly  face  that  had  appeared  to 
Miss  Georgina  in  Cut-throat  Alley 
leered  at  him  suddenly,  and  he  re 
coiled.  Aghast,  he  remembered 
the  painting  under  the  attic  eaves ! 

Patricia   was  facing  him.     The 

word  love  was  in  his  ears.     With 
105 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

a  maddened  cry  he  advanced  quiver 
ing.  Along  the  films  of  the  air  he 
saw  his  ancestors  as  he  often  pict 
ured  them  to  himself — a  fine  mass 
of  superior  clay  on  a  pedestal. 

"  You  shall  give  him  up  !  "  he 
thundered.  Then  he  turned.  The 
green  sarcenet  curtain  moved  omi 
nously,  and  the  form  of  Richard 
Sheridan  was  disclosed  in  its  folds. 

The  youth,  heedless  of  the  frown 
ing  faces  about  him,  gazed  only  at 
the  woman  he  was  ready  to  die  for 
if  need  were.  The  passions  of  the 
world  were  swept  away  as  the  echo 
of  her  cry  "  I  love  him — I  shall 
love  him  always  !  "  —  bounded 
through  his  heart.  For  one  har 
monious  moment  they  gazed  into 
1 06 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

each  other's  eyes  forgetful  of  surg 
ing  discords.  With  stronger  grip 
he  clutched  at  the  curtain ! 

"  You,  sirrah  !  "  scoffed  the  voice 
Patricia  thought  would  go  on  for 
ever,  inflicting  fresh  wounds  at  each 
new  outburst.  "  Impudent  organ 
thumper — to  dare  come  here !  I'll 
better  your  judgment."  As  he 
moved  nearer  Richard  she  thrust 
herself  before  him. 

From  the  corner  of  the  room 
came  a  wail  from  Julie.  "  Oh, 
don't  be  hard  on  them,  Jonathan. 
You  helped  father  make  me  give 
up  Captain  MacLeerie,"  she  fal 
tered.  "  I  might  have  been  Mrs. 
Captain  MacLeerie!  Poor  Bodsey 
— he  vowed  he'd  never  sail  a  ship 
107 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

into  Amboy  Harbor  again — and 
perhaps  the  cannibals  have  him 
now,  or  the  devil  fishes  !  " 

She  began  to  weep  softly.  Out 
side  a  heavy  oaken  shutter  clanked 
against  the  house.  Patricia  threw 
her  arms  about  her  lover's  neck, 
and  her  father  gazed  at  her  spell 
bound  with  fury. 

"  Disgraced  us,  hussy,"  he  mut 
tered.  "Go  with  your  tinker!" 

Juma  fell  on  his  knees  and  be 
gan  to  lament  after  the  fashion  of 
his  kind. 

"Begone!" — spoke  the  voice 
again,  breaking  at  last — "  You  are 
no  longer  one  of  us !  " 

The  girl,  supported  by  the  man 
to  whom  she  was  giving  her  young 
1 08 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

life,  and  followed  by  the  trembling 
negro,  crept  slowly  away. 

Whiffs  of  air  increasing  to  a  cur 
rent  swept  from  out  the  hall.  The 
remaining  lights  fought  with  it — 
then  despaired.  A  tired  moon  was 
slumbering  behind  the  western 
pines,  and  only  the  glow  of  a  few 
watchful  stars  dripped  through  the 
casements. 

Simultaneously  the  breaths  of 
every  one  in  the  room  came  faster 
and  faster.  Vapors  wan  and  tinged 
with  dust  filled  the  atmosphere,  and 
an  unmistakable  odor  of  sandal- 
wood,  faint  from  long  imprison 
ment. 

The  startled  Knickerbockers  re 
treated  to  the  walls,  knocking  over 
109 


The   Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

chairs  and  tables  in  their  flight. 
Before  the  green  sarcenet  curtain 
which  had  played  such  a  part  in  the 
affairs  of  the  night  there  was  a  waft 
of  airy  garments.  A  white  weft 
of  towering  hair — black,  burning 
eyes.  Three  Knickerbockers  knew 
them !  The  lady  of  the  banished 
portrait  was  moving  through  the 
doorway  and  speaking  in  quaint 
last-century  utterance. 

"Come  back!"  she  called  to  the 
lovers,  speaking  to  Patricia.  "'Tis 
a  weary  while  I  have  been  in  the 
other  world,  but  your  sore  need  has 
brought  me  here  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  birth  of  love.  I  am  your 
great-great-grandmother,  who  felt 
the  full  force  of  the  pretty  passion 
no 


"  The  lady   of  the  banished  portrait  was 
moving  through  the  doorway  " 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

and  stole  away  with  my  dear  heart 
from  yonder  theatre  in  old  John 
Street — a  grain  house  in  your  time, 
so  one  from  York  who  recently 
joined  us  informed  me. 

"  Although  my  likeness  does  not 
hang  in  the  family  line,  I  bear  you 
small  malice.  I  get  a  surfeit  of 
their  society."  Here  the  ghost 
sighed,  and  with  the  saddest  air  pos 
sible  tapped  her  empty  snuffbox 
and  went  through  the  act  of  inhal 
ing  a  reviving  pinch  of  strong  Span 
ish.  "  This  girl  who  has  the 
bloom  of  me  I  would  befriend,  and 
as  the  greatness  of  your  ancestors  is 
all  that  stands  in  the  way  of  a  mar 
riage  with  the  man  of  her  choice, 
I  have  bid  them  come  to  meet 
in 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

you  and  get  their  opinions,  may 
hap." 

A  tremor  went  through  the 
room  !  More  unearthly  visitants  ? 
The  flesh  was  creeping  on  the 
bones  of  all  the  living  Knicker 
bockers! 

"  They  are  waiting  for  us  in  Lady 
Knickerbocker's  state-room  yonder 
— Sir  William  tried  to  kiss  me  there 
once  after  a  junket,"  she  continued. 
"  He  would  not  come  to-night — I 
fear  he  was  afraid  it  would  be  dull." 

She  moved  over  to  Jonathan, 
who  was  speechless  from  fright, 
and  laid  a  shadowy  hand  on  his. 
Once  past  the  door  ledge  she  began 
the  descent  of  the  hall  as  if  footing 
the  air  of  some  ancient  melody. 

112 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

With  grim,  rebellious  face  the  pres 
ent  head  of  her  house  moved  with 
her,  apparently  against  his  own  vo 
lition. 

By  the  one  brightly  floriated 
mirror  she  straightened  her  osprey 
plumes  and  tapped  him  gently  with 
her  fan.  "  You  dance  like  a  foot 
man,'*  she  said.  "  Have  you  go- 
carts  'neath  your  feet?" 

The  trembling  file  of  Knicker 
bockers  followed  after  them,  seem 
ingly  blown  by  the  wind,  whose  dia 
bolical  wailing  reverberated  through 
the  house.  Doors  and  windows 
raged  and  rattled.  There  were 
stridulous,  uncanny  groans  from 
quaking  beams.  Behind  the  pan 
els  adown  the  hall  rose  and  swelled 
"3 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

the  confused  murmur  of  many 
voices.  The  echoes  of  long  dead 
years  were  reviving.  Above  them 
all  was  a  dying  requiem  of  bells, 
tolling  low  and  mournfully  like  a 
warning  to  belated  road-farers  that 
the  ghosts  of  the  haughty  Knicker 
bockers  were  seeking  earth  again. 


Chapter  Four:* 


141 1 1.    _.    J-Sii- i L_ 

JJH -^c/y^. 


|S  the  family  neared  the 
long  unused  state  parlor 
the  din  grew  louder — a 
rising  treble  of  voices,  ascending 
from  hoarse  trumpet  tones  to  a 
twittering  falsetto,  accompanied  by 
a  maddening  persistent  tapping  of 
high  heels  on  the  smooth  floor. 
The  sounds  of  shivering  glass  as  a 
girandole  crashed  from  its  joining 
met  their  ears.  Each  second  was 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

a  discord  running  wild  with  panic- 
striking  incidents. 

Julie  grasped  frantically  at  the 
more  stalwart  Georgina,  while 
clinging  to  her  own  garments  were 
the  three  Mansion  girls,  screeching 
like  the  town's  whistles  in  a  March 
twilight. 

The  ghost  little  Jerusalem  feared 
the  most  was  that  of  the  stern 
Judge.  "Will  he  know  that  I 
have  changed  my  name  ? "  she 
wailed.  "  Oh,  sister,  I  ate  up  those 
bracelets  he  gave  me  for  taking 
treacle.  I  sold  them  to  a  silver 
smith  and  bought  French  prunes. 
You  know  you  said  that  you'd 
as  soon  eat  stewed  bull-frogs  as 
anything  grown  by  the  Mon- 
118 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

sieurs,  and   all  York   was   stewing 
prunes ! " 

Georgina  never  turned  her  head 
at  this  remarkable  confession.  Her 
features  had  assumed  a  strange 
rigidity;  she  was  as  silent  as  her 
brother.  The  shrieks  of  her  nieces, 
old  Juma's  incessant  lamentations, 
and  the  low  whispers  of  the  lovers 
were  all  unheeded.  The  racket 
behind  the  cobwebbed  doors,  never 
opened  but  for  Knickerbocker  wed 
dings  and  funerals,  absorbed  her 
senses.  Slowly  they  were  swing 
ing  back  for  Jonathan  and  his 
phantom  partner.  The  delicate 
odor  of  sandal-wood,  was  strength 
ened  by  gasps  of  musk.  Into  a 
yellow  blinding  glare  of  light  the 
119 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

file  of  Knickerbockers  looked,  and 
their  eyes  grew  gooseberry  -  like 
with  horror. 

A  crowd  of  shades  bedecked  in 
their  last  earthly  garniture  were 
gliding  and  teetering  about ;  some 
dignified  as  at  a  stately  farce,  others 
hilarious  with  ungraceful  levity. 

As  the  living  Knickerbockers 
appeared  in  the  room  the  waggling 
and  chortling  fell  into  a  monotone, 
and  the  company  began  to  pass  in 
review  before  them,  seemingly  de 
sirous  of  attracting  individual  no 
tice.  Few  wore  the  costly  attire 
one  would  have  expected  from  the 
tales  spread  about  them  by  the 
Knickerbockers  of  Vesey  Street. 
Several  were  clad  in  plain  hum- 

I2O 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

hums  and  torn  fustians.  One 
chirpy  dame  in  a  moth-eaten  tabby 
hugged  a  little  package  of  Bohea 
to  her  stomacher,  unmindful  of  the 
fact  that  the  luxury  had  grown 
much  cheaper  since  she  quitted 
this  sphere.  Another,  who  evi 
dently  thought  herself  a  beauty, 
wore  a  false  frontage  of  goat  hair 
before  her  muslin  cap,  and  ogled 
Jonathan  as  she  passed,  though  he 
did  not  seem  eager  for  a  flirtation 
with  his  ugly  great-aunt. 

An  ungainly  yokel  stepped  on 
the  feet  of  the  Mansion  girls,  and 
some  bold  gentlemen,  who  had 
spent  a  goodly  portion  of  their 
natural  lives  in  Bridewell,  swore  at 
them.  Still  the  awful  procession 
121 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

kept  moving  on — faces  were  as 
thick  as  the  tapers  glowing  in 
every  bracket  and  candelabra. 
Bursts  of  music  rose  on  the  wind — 
a  wheezing  tune  that  sobbed  of  past 
jubilation.  Suddenly  all  the  Knick 
erbockers  gasped.  Stern  Judge 
Knickerbocker,  who  had  rarely 
smiled  in  life,  was  seen  advancing, 
bent  double  with  laughter  and 
clinging  to  a  figure  in  a  cardinal 
hoop. 

"  Oh,  let  us  cover  our  eyes," 
whispered  Miss  Georgina.  "  This 
is  more  than  I  can  bear." 

"  Don't !  "  said  the  lady  of  the 
banished  portrait.  "  You  have 
often  boasted  of  your  family's  in 
timacy  with  that  queer  figure. 

122 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Through  your  veneration  of  him, 
York  has  made  him  into  quite  a 
hero.  It  is  the  friend  of  one  of  the 
first  American  Knickerbockers — 
Lord  Cornbury  !  He  was  addicted 
to  wearing  women's  furbelows  ! " 

"Gazooks!"  exclaimed  his  Lord 
ship,  in  a  tone  loud  enough  for  the 
Knickerbockers  to  hear.  "More  of 
those  tiresome  impertinents  !  The 
next  thing  the  whole  of  the  pre 
sumptuous  clan  will  be  petitioning 
me  for  standing  room  at  my  routs." 

"  Don't  go  any  nearer  to  them," 
said  the  Judge,  in  the  tones  of  a 
sycophant.  "  If  they  bore  you, 
my  dear  Corny,  I  am  willing  to 
cut  them.  You  know  it  is  the  fash 
ion  on  earth  to  recognize  only  the  most 
123 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

desirable  ancestors,  and  we  can  re 
turn  the  compliment.  Besides  it 
was  decreed  that  I  should  be  jocu 
lar  for  the  next  half  century,  and 
I'm  afraid  a  too  close  inspection 
would  cause  me  to  don  weepers." 

The  group  by  the  doors  felt  a 
sickening  sensation  in  their  flaccid 
frames.  Jonathan's  partner,  know 
ing  how  grievously  they  must  all 
have  been  affected  by  the  change 
in  their  parent,  turned  her  head. 

A  one-eyed  hag  was  advancing 
to  her.  She  curtsied  low,  and  pre 
sented  two  bits  of  plaster  which  had 
fallen  from  the  ceiling. 

"  Messages,"  she  snickered,  fum 
bling  with  her  hands. 

"From  Marmaduke  and  Leoni- 
124 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

das  Barula,"  read  the  lady  (though 
no  one  knows  how,  for  she  only 
observed  the  niches).  "We  beg  to 
be  excused  from  corning  to-night. 
To  put  it  mildly,  we  were  raised 
aloft  in  Pearl  Street  Hollow  for 
practising  target  shooting  on  coach- 
drivers,  and  our  necks  are  still  out 
of  joint  and  not  fit  to  be  seen  in 
company." 

As  the  merriment  waxed  louder 

a  Gobie,  who  had  spent  her  life  as 

a   fish-fag,   began    tapping  on    the 

panelled  wainscot.     With  a  hoarse 

guffaw  she  turned  her  piercing  ala- 

quine  eyes  on  Miss  Julie  andsquinted 

— "  More  negus  !      More  here,  you 

slubber-degullions.    We  Gobies  has 

a   thirst.       'Twas    what    we    were 

.    125 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

noted  for  in  life — not  our  learning, 
great-niece,"  she  mocked,  as  she 
turned  her  head  and  grimaced  at 
Miss  Georgina. 

"Go  away!"  snuffled  that  once 
resolute  woman,  too  weak  to  com 
bat  any  longer.  A  feeling  of  de 
spair  was  settling  upon  her  like  a 
pall.  What  if  Mrs.  Rumbell,  or, 
worse  still,  if  Mrs.  Snograss  should 
be  passing  Knickerbocker  House 
and  hear  the  oaths  and  ungenteel 
voices  of  the  supposedly  elegant 
family  ?  No  tap-room  fracas  at 
Fraunces'  could  have  equalled  the 
deafening  hubbub. 

"  Beshrew  the  old  fool,  she  be  as 
jealous  for  the  lies  she  told  of  us  as 
a  Barbary  pigeon." 
126 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

"  Go  away ! "  continued  the  sink 
ing  sister  of  the  autocrat  of  York. 

That  distraught-looking  gentle 
man  himself  was  hastening  across 
the  room  with  restorative  salts, 
which  one  of  his  daughters  always 
carried  in  her  reticule.  As  he 
approached  Georgina  the  Gobie 
snatched  the  bottle  from  his  hand 
and  drained  it  at  a  gulp. 

"Anything  with  fire-water  for 
me,"  she  hiccoughed.  Then  clutch 
ing  hold  of  him,  she  sunk  her  voice 
to  a  whisper — "  I  left  this  sphere 
for  drinking  a  quart  of  gillyflower 
scent ! " 

Julie  began  to  weep  softly — 
"  Oh,  Aunt  Jane,  if  you  were  only 
here!  Our  Aunt  Jane  was  difFer- 
127 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

ent  from  these  people,"  she  wailed 
to  herself,  half  apologetically. 

She  was  fond  of  studying  the  pict 
ure  in  the  other  room  and  could 
have  traced  it  from  memory.  Rais 
ing  her  eyes,  she  gave  a  prolonged 
shriek.  The  fish-fag  and  some  of 
the  Makemies  were  dragging  her  be 
loved  Jane"over  Lady  Lyron's  court 
steps,  out  of  the  powdering  closet. 

The  room  was  becoming  up 
roarious.  Doors  were  opening  and 
shutting  again,  letting  in  the  moan 
ing  of  the  bells.  The  culmination 
of  the  buffoonery  was  approaching. 

"Good,  Jane,"  sobbed  Miss 
Julie. 

"  Good,  Jane,"  echoed  the  cho 
rus  of  the  spectres. 
128 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Reluctant,  and  feigning  a  great 
stress  of  emotion,  the  poor  lady 
was  pushed  into  the  illuminated 
space  below  the  hundred-taper  drop. 
She  looked  like  some  pretty  long- 
vaulted  effigy.  In  her  hands  she 
still  carried  the  spray  of  milk-weed. 

The  noise  lessened  for  a  moment. 
Jane  gazed  reproachfully  at  her 
niece,  Julie,  as  if  the  indiscreet 
wish  were  the  cause  of  her  pres 
ent  misery,  and  said,  in  a  pensive 
voice,  "  I  did  not  want  to  come  to 
night." 

"  I  always  knew  you  were  a  mod 
est  woman,"  said  Jonathan,  recov 
ering  a  little  of  his  once  audacious 
manner. 

"Modest  forsooth  !  "  giggled  the 
129 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

fish-fag  diabolically,  and  seizing  one 
of  Jonathan's  fat  hands  in  her  bony 
fingers,  she  drew  it  over  the  other's 
face. 

"  Look,  see  the  white  streaks  on 
her  now !  She  reddened,  the  hussy, 
— or  I'm  not  a  Gobie  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  was  vain,"  answered  the 
most  prated-about  of  female  Knick 
erbockers.  "  I  used  countless  beau- 
tifiers — pearl  powders,  cherry  salve, 
cupid's  tints.  Everything  Mr. 
Gaine  sold  at  the  Crown.  They 
hooked  the  men.  When  pearl 
powders  came  upon  the  market,  I 
received  three  offers  —  Jenks — a 
tutor  at  King's  College — not  the 
President,  as  the  report  remains  on 
earth — wrote  me  a  poem  in  the 
130 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Weekly  Gossiper,  called  'Pink  and 
White  Amanda.'  " 

"  Jane  Knickerbocker,"  said  the 
ghost  who  was  giving  the  party, 
"  your  family  has  spent  many  hours 
telling  the  present  generation  of 
your  womanly  virtues,  and  they 
cannot  fail  in  having  an  overween 
ing  respect  for  any  opinion  you  may 
utter.  Shall  this  girl  who  bears 
your  blood  marry  yon  youth  ?  " 

"  Let  them  wed  by  all  means,  if 
they  see  advantage  in  it.  I  vow  if 
I  could  come  back  to  earth  and  live 
my  twenty-eight  years  over  again, 
I  would  join  hands  with  Jean,  our 
Elizabeth-Town  perfumer." 

Lord  Cornbury  and  the  shades 
about  him  were  bowed  with  mirth. 


The   Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

"Janet,  you  giddy  girl,  though 
half  the  age  of  most  of  us,  I  pro 
test  you  are  becoming  a  wit.  You 
will  be  getting  into  society  next," 
he  cried.  "  I  shall  never  be  mean 
enough  to  tell  that  in  sublunary 
times  one  of  the  first  American 
Knickerbockers  knew  me  intimate 
ly  only  as  my  valet." 

"A  fig  for  your  class  distinctions," 
called  the  fair  indignant,  hunting  for 
a  rouge  rag.  "  Years  ago  we  heard 
'  'twas  money  made  the  court  circle 
at  York.*  Why,  you  must  remem 
ber  how  you  feared  your  creditors 
when  they  first  came  below." 

"  Alack,  indeed,"  said  his  Lord 
ship  plaintively,  "  this  hooped  pet 
ticoat  was  never  paid  for." 
132 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

After  dishevelled  Jane  had  van 
ished  again  into  the  powdering 
closet  whence  she  had  first  emerged, 
the  lady  of  the  banished  portrait 
moved  over  to  Patricia  and  her 
lover.  Standing  side  by  side  the  re 
semblance  between  the  two  women 
was  remarkable.  One  was  the  bud 
ding  flower ;  the  other  the  fragile 
shadow  of  a  beautiful  life. 

"Her  kind  will  always  exist," 
she  said.  "  They  marry  for  pearl 
powders  and  other  vanities,  and 
usually  seek,  or  are  forced  into,  a 
gilded  cage.  There,  like  jackdaws, 
they  call  out  their  possessions  from 
dawn  till  night,  and  the  heedless 
world  passing  by  sees  the  sparkling 
of  the  gold,  mistakes  the  caws  for 
133 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

singing,  and  applauds.  I  knew 
love — the  ideal  love  that  smiles  at 
one  from  the  wayside  when  one  is 
seeking  it  in  the  well-kept  gardens. 
I  paid  for  it  with  my  heart's  blood, 
and  I  never  had  cause  to  regret. 
Over  the  rough  places  of  my  earthly 
journey  it  followed  me  with  radiant 
illusions.  The  April  winds  were 
sweeter,  the  sunshine  on  the  roads 
warmer.  I  felt  all  the  raptures 
mother  nature  gives  her  children. 
That  is  why  I  could  leave  the 
other  world  to  do  you  this  service. 
Love  is  the  one  thing  death  cannot 
lull  to  sleep ! " 

Patricia  tried  to  answer,  but  the 
power  of  speech  had  left  her  for 
the  moment.  Juma's  face  was 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

glowing  with  peaceful  smiles.  He 
bent  low  on  his  right  knee  to  kiss  the 
diaphanous  draperies  of  the  shade. 

Outside  in  the  night  there  arose 
the  low  murmurous  chanting  of  the 
town  waits  moving  homeward.  A 
chime  of  bells,  as  soft  as  a  blessing. 
The  thorns  had  fallen  from  the 
brows  of  love. 

While  Patricia's  benefactress  gave 
her  message  the  circle  of  ghosts  was 
making  way  for  the  other  Knick 
erbockers  to  enter.  On  closer  in 
spection,  many  of  them  proved  to 
be  tame  sort  of  animals  enough. 
From  a  distance  one  monster  of  a 
woman  had  given  the  impression 
that  she  was  trying  to  bully  pos 
terity.  Perhaps  this  was  due  to 

'35 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

the  long  feathers  in  her  head-dress, 
that  nodded  maliciously  at  her  most 
placid  motion.  As  she  bowed  to 
her  descendants  a  plume  tickled 
the  tip  of  Jonathan's  nose  and  he 
jumped  back  slightly.  "  I  am  Me- 
lodia  Mudford  Makemie,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  thought  you  would  like  to 
meet  me,  as  I  started  the  Christ 
mas  fashion  of  giving  hot-bag  cov 
ers  in  York." 

"  Hot-bag  covers  !  "  reiterated 
Miss  Georgina,  astonished.  "  I  have 
always  said  mittens.  Why,  in  my 
ancestry  book  it  is  noted  that  in 
the  year  1768  you  gave  one  hun 
dred  pairs  of  silk  mittens  to  Gruel 
Hall,  the  home  for  tiresome  gen 
tlewomen." 

136 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

"  The  years  play  great  hoaxes," 
chuckled  the  ghost.  "  Those  an 
cestry  books  are  a  standard  joke 
with  us,  and  I  believe  they  are 
looked  upon  with  some  suspicion 
in  your  own  world." 

Melodia  seemed  so  friendly,  Ju 
lie  gained  courage  enough  to  purse 
up  her  lips  for  a  speech,  but  the 
shade  anticipated  her. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to 
ask — why  did  I  make  such  a  wide 
frill  about  the  bottle's  neck?  'Tis 
easy  to  explain.  I  never  took  my 
bag  to  church  to  warm  my  hands 
— 'twas  my  stomach  !  " 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Miss  Julie,  faltering 
slightly,  fearing  that  this  relative 
might  become  vulgar  like  the  ter- 
137 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

rible  Gobies  still  dancing  about 
Lord  Cornbury. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  other, 
"  when  William  fell  asleep  during 
the  sermon  I  used  to  sink  down 
well  in  the  pew,  put  the  frill  up 
to  my  mouth,  squeeze  the  end  of 
the  bag,  and  get  as  much  as  a  dram 
of  whiskey." 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  Julie,  aghast; 
"a  hot-water  bag  for  whiskey!" 

"Why  not?"  said  the  ghost,  an 
grily.  Her  manner  was  that  of  one 
who  had  expected  commendation 
for  her  cleverness.  The  plumes 
in  her  head-dress  were  shaking 
violently. 

"  Why  not,  miss  ? "  she  asked 
again.  "  You  are  far  too  nice. 
138 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

At  any  rate  you  know  the  reason 
for  those  tomfool  bag  -  covers. 
'Twas  to  deaden  the  smell  of  liquor. 
Your  generation  of  Yorkers  does 
not  appreciate  them  as  we  did." 
Then  her  voice  broke  into  derisive 
sniggers,  as  she  glided  away. 

And  now  upon  the  strange  com 
pany  fell  the  bellowing  of  some 
faithful  passing  watchman. 

"  Midnight's  here  and  fair 
weather  !  " 

A  sleepy  cock  crowed  in  a  dis 
tant  Chelsea  barn. 

The  faces  of  the  shades  began  to 
blanch  and  assume  the  lack-lustre 
tint  of  ashes.  The  lady  of  the 
banished  portrait  touched  Patricia 
as  if  giving  her  a  last  embrace,  and 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

her  smile  at  Richard  Sheridan  was 
full  of  good  wishes. 

"  Do  you  consent  to  the  mar 
riage,"  she  whispered,  bending  over 
Jonathan,  "  or  shall  we  come  to 
morrow  night?" 

"  I  do,"  he  answered  hoarsely. 

"  Then  we  go  in  peace,"  sighed 
the  ghost. 

There  was  a  flutter  of  garments 
and  the  lights  vanished  suddenly. 
Only  the  scents  of  old-time  per 
fumes  remained,  sweet  as  the  hearts 
of  vanished  roses. 

A  cackle  of  feeble  laughter  floated 
back  to  the  room  as  if  the  depart 
ing  Knickerbockers  were  still  mak 
ing  merry  on  the  stairway  to  the 
other  world. 

140 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

The  song  of  the  weary  bells 
was  over.  Peace  had  fallen  upon 
the  earth,  and  in  Lady  Tyron's 
mouldering  parlor  the  vials  of  a 
foolish  pride  were  despoiled  for 
ever.  Through  the  mystical  light 
the  living  of  the  family  seemed  to 
be  strangely  transfigured.  Jonathan 
Knickerbocker,  the  autocrat  of 
York,  walked  with  his  head  bowed 
upon  his  breast.  The  hard  linea 
ments  of  Georgina's  face  were  soft 
ened.  Ofttimes  she  turned  un 
easily,  half  expecting  some  awful 
apparition  to  emerge  before  her. 
As  for  Miss  Julie,  she  moved  like 
one  in  a  dreamland  of  her  own. 
The  tears  of  the  night  had  fallen 
upon  that  little  flower  in  her  heart 
141 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

and  brought  it  back  to  life. 
Henceforth  it  would  fill  all  her 
remaining  years  with  fragrance. 
The  three  eldest  Knickerbocker 
daughters  clung  to  her  as  if  she 
were  the  guiding  light  of  their 
starved  souls. 

Suddenly  she  left  them,  and  went 
to  her  brother. 

"  I  am  glad  they  came,  Jona 
than,"  she  faltered;  "we  had  for 
gotten  God  made  us  all  in  His 
own  image.  He  gave  us  the  flow 
ers  and  the  stars,  the  sweet  winds 
and  the  spring-times — the  voices  of 
children  and  the  songs  of  birds. 
Every  man  is  rich  if  he  but  knew 
it,  and  those  who  are  only  rich  in 
pride  are  the  poorest  of  the  race." 
142 


The  Ghosts  of  Their  Ancestors 

Over  by  the  shimmering  case 
ment,  the  youth  and  the  girl  crept 
nearer  to  each  other.  Softly  he 
drew  her  to  him  until  her  face  was 
close  to  his.  The  night  was  dead. 
Down  old  Broadway,  over  the 
Bowling  Green,  the  Easter  dawn 
tiptoed  into  the  silent  city. 


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